


Chester

by sharkie335



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom breaks up with George the same day that he meets Steven in a bar. He has an instant attraction to Steven that is apparently shared, but George isn't letting go so easily. And what about Chester? Who's he and why is he hanging around?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chester

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Nanowrimo in 2006. I shopped it around to see if anyone was interested in publishing it, but no one was. So, in order to get it off my hard drive, I've decided to go ahead and post it. Please feel free to comment, critique, whatever!

Chapter One

Sounds of raised voices attracted Chester's attention. One of them was his great grandson, Tom. The other was that good for nothing son of a bitch George. It sounded like George was upset - again - with Tom over something stupid.

Drifting closer, Chester listened to the argument as it unfolded. "All I'm saying is that you're giving guys the wrong idea when you act like that," George said, obviously making an effort to sound calm and reasonable. Chester could have told him that that was the exact wrong thing to do - it was like waiving a red flag to a bull and would only serve to upset Tom further. Since Chester didn't _like_ George, though, he didn't say anything.

"When I act like _what_, George?" Tom asked. "Self-confident? Friendly? Polite? I get the feeling that me interacting at all with a guy is too much for you."

"Well, maybe it is. Maybe I just want to keep you to myself, and I don't see what's wrong with that."

"What's wrong with it is that I'm not yours. I'm a person, not an object, and you don't get to wrap me in bubble wrap and store me in a closet. You're just going to have to deal with me talking to other people, and if you can't handle that, then maybe we should just bring this to an end now."

"Yes, Tom, do that!" Chester cried, unable to hold back. He wanted Tom out of his relationship with George so much that he couldn't help himself. Unsurprisingly, George didn't react - he always ignored Chester, a feeling that was completely mutual. Tom looked around, confusion and anger spread across his face.

"Well, maybe you should. God knows why I've stayed with you this long," George said, looking disgusted. "You're not good enough in bed for me to put up with you cheating on me."

Tom came to his feet, face a stricken mess. "Cheating on you? I've never - I would never - "

"Right. If you had nothing to hide, we wouldn't be having this argument. God knows you've never been able to keep it in your pants around me, but I'm supposed to believe that you do with all the guys you flirt with."

"For the last time, I'm _not_ flirting. I'm being polite. If you can't see the difference, then we really don't have anything to talk about." Tom picked up his keys and started towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" George moved between Tom and the exit. Tom just tried to go around him, only to be pushed back by George. "We're not done here."

"We are done. We're so far beyond done that I can't even see done anymore." Tom tried to push his way past George, only to be stopped again.

"Please, baby. It's just that - I love you so much. It scares me to see you talking to other guys, makes me worried that you're going to leave me. Can't you see that?" George was trying to look sincere, and Tom's face softened.

Chester growled and got closer to the two of them, trying to push George back away from Tom. George easily held his position, but Tom shivered. "If you loved me, you wouldn't accuse me of cheating on you just to get your way. You don't love anybody but yourself, George, and I'm done with you."

George said, "You're not done till I say you're done," and bringing his hand up, backhanded Tom across the cheek, knocking his head to the side.

Chester could see tears in Tom's eyes, but his voice was steady as he said, "Touch me again and I'll call the cops, let them deal with you. Now get out of my way."

George's eyes grew wide, but he backed off, saying, "Oh god, baby, I'm so sorry. It just makes me nuts, and I can't believe I did that. You have to believe me that I didn't mean it. Please, can't we sit down and talk about this calmly?"

"It was too late for that when you accused me of cheating on you, and it was definitely too late when you hit me. Now, I'm giving you one more chance - get out of my way or I'm calling the cops."

When George stepped away, gesturing widely at the door, Tom took a deep breath and walked out. Chester paused long enough to stick his tongue out at George, and then hurried after him.

By the time he'd caught up with Tom, he was already muttering to himself, trying to talk himself out of going back to George. "Loves me, my ass. He just wants to control me. Dammit, you know that, Tom. You shouldn't put up with being hit like that."

"Damn straight," Chester said, but he wasn't surprised when Tom just looked around incuriously before talking to himself again. "But he sure seems to mean it when he says he loves me, and I'm not getting any younger. Maybe we could work things out - find some sort of agreement."

"But he's hit you once. You're always going to have to be afraid that he'll hit you again. Besides, look at you - you've got a huge bruise coming up on your cheek. That wasn't a love tap he gave you - that was a full-blown hit. You're better off without him." Chester was fairly desperate to keep Tom from going back, but not sure that he was getting through as Tom unlocked his car and slung himself into the seat, grabbing the rear view mirror and angling it so that he could look at his face - and the rapidly blackening mark below his eye. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

"I can't go back. I _won't_ go back."

And as Chester congratulated himself for talking him out of it, Tom put the car in gear and drove away.

***

Tom studied himself in the mirror. The mark where George had hit him that morning had darkened nicely, and now he had a huge bruise over the side of his face. There was no way that Susan was going to miss it. He tried brushing his dark hair forward, but it wasn't long enough to cover the bruise, and with a sigh he knew that even it had been, Susan would still notice. Staring at the phone, he contemplated calling her and canceling. Just then, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie."

Of course it would be Jennifer. Tom tried not to sigh. "I suppose George called you."

"He did. He's really sorry, Tom. I don't know what you two were fighting about, but he was practically hysterical. Do you think - could you please call him?"

"I'm not going to call him. And I'm not going to tell you what we were fighting about." The temptation was even stronger to just stay home until his face healed. Susan was going to ask, and he wouldn't be able to lie to her. And she'd tell Jennifer, and then it would get back to George, and it was just headed into a spiral of not good.

"I wasn't going to ask. Just - I've never heard him like this. Think about calling him, please? I'm not sure that he won't do something stupid if you don't."

"Too late," Tom muttered, but not softly enough.

"Tom? What was that?"

"Nothing," Tom muttered again. He couldn't believe George's balls, trying to get Jennifer involved. With a grimace that pulled painfully at the bruise on his face, he said, "Look, Jennifer, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm not going back to George and I'm not calling him. Please don't ask me again."

"But - "

"I'm supposed to be meeting Susan shortly. I'm sure she'll give you all the dirty details later. Suffice it to say, George burned his bridges."

Jennifer sighed softly. "If you're sure, Tom. I just thought you two were good together."

"I thought we were too," Tom whispered, then, unable to deal with this conversation any more, he hung up the phone.

He finished brushing his hair and checked his clothes briefly, and left to go to the bar. There was a familiar presence in the car, but he just shuddered and shook it off. He had real problems and no time to deal with figments of his imagination. The drive to the bar was short, and he spent it trying to figure out a way to explain the bruise on his face that didn't include the words "George hit me." Unfortunately, Susan knew him too well, and would probably get the truth out of him, no matter what he came up with, and he couldn't imagine being able to say "I ran into a door," convincingly.

A car was pulling out from directly in front of the bar, and Tom parked his car, taking a deep breath and turned the car off. Getting out, he locked up and made his way inside. There, he looked around, spotting Susan's long blonde hair. She caught his eyes at the same time, and stood up. He knew the exact moment she caught sight of the bruise, mouth tightening and eyes going stormy.

She didn't say anything, though. She just kissed him on the other cheek, settling back into the cozy booth. Her eyes never left Tom's face, and he could feel the blood flooding his face. "So..."

"Can we just leave it?" Tom asked, not really thinking that she'd go along with it, but having to try, nonetheless.

"How long have you known me?" She laughed, but her eyes stayed that same stormy gray.

"Oh, god. I don't think I could count that high," Tom groaned. "Haven't we known each other forever?"

She nodded. "Forever sounds about right. So what makes you think I'm going to let this go? Someone _hit_ you, and I want to know who and if I need to go kick their ass."

Tom sighed and waved over a waitress, ordering a beer and settling in further into his seat. "I broke up with George," he said, hoping she'd take it from there.

And she didn't disappoint. "Because he hit you?" Her eyes were hard, missing nothing.

"No. Well, yes, but I think I was breaking up with him already before he ever swung. I just don't need this crap, you know?"

Susan bit her lip, white teeth digging into the pink flesh, and then she relaxed. "You know what I think of George, Tom. It's the one place Jennifer and I don't agree. I've wanted you to break up with him for a long time now, and I'm glad you finally did it. But what finally set it off?"

"Does it really matter? It's over, done with, and I'm not going back."

"Good. Now answer the question."

Tom shrugged, not saying anything as the waitress brought his drink. Drinking half of his beer in three long swallows, he set it back down and rested his head on his hand. "Apparently I'm a flirt, I'm a lousy lay, and I can't keep it in my pants."

Susan reached across the table and rested her hand on his. When he looked up at her, her eyes had softened. "None of that's true. You don't flirt - you're friendly. And I know you'd never cheat on someone. As far a lousy lay goes, I don't have all the facts, but somehow I doubt it."

He couldn't help the smile that came to his face, and as it grew wider, an honest to god laugh broke from his chest. It didn't last long, though, and ended on what sounded suspiciously like a sob, not that he'd ever admit it. God, he'd thought he'd finally found someone who'd love him through thick and thin, not someone who'd turn into a jealous, insecure asshole.

The cold sensation was back, concentrated in one spot on his shoulder, and he shivered. "Sorry, sorry. I don't know where that came from."

She smiled softly at him. "It's okay, sweetie. You've had a long, rough day. I know how much you care for George."

He fiddled with the napkin on the table in front of him and shrugged, then picked up his beer and drained it. Looking around, he couldn't see the waitress anywhere. "Where did she go?"

Susan looked around as well, and then shrugged. "I don't know - want me to go up to the bar?"

"Nah, I'll go. Want anything?" When she shook her head, he stood and made his way through the crowds of people to the bar. He stood for a few minutes, watching Jaimie make his way along. This was Susan and Tom's regular bar, and Jaimie recognized him, raising his hand in a wait a moment gesture. It was more like five minutes before he finally got to Tom, but that was fine, since Tom used the time to try and get his emotions back under control. He just wanted to have a pleasant evening and forget about the events of the day.

Finally, Jaimie was standing in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the bruise on Tom's cheek, but thankfully didn't say anything. Instead, he took Tom's order for a beer. Something nagged at Tom, and when Jaimie turned back to face him, he grinned, figuring it out. "New piercing?" he asked, gesturing at the ring through Jaimie's upper lip.

Jaimie grinned. It brought the various piercings in his face - eyebrows, lower lip and now his upper lip - into sharp relief. "Yep. Just had it done yesterday. You like?"

Tom nodded. "I like. It suits you." And it did. Jamie grinned even wider and winked. Tom put his hand over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes. "You tease." Jamie was straight, and Tom knew it, which made him safe to... flirt... with. Suddenly, Tom realized that he didn't have to worry about George catching him, and he could flirt with anyone he felt like. It caught him like a blow to the solar plexus, and he stumbled, fumbling his beer. Unfortunately, he managed to spill some - right on the man in front of him.

"Oh, dammit," the man said, looking around. "Watch where you're going!" It took Tom a moment to react, because the man was so striking. Bright red hair, hazel eyes, what were clearly dimples in his cheeks. Nice, strong chin, and lips that looked like they were made for kissing. Annoyance flashed in his eyes, and Tom seemed able to breathe again.

Setting his beer back on the bar, Tom grabbed for some napkins, trying to blot the worst of the beer off the sweater. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry." The guy pulled it away from his skin. The sweater looked like a nice one, and it definitely felt expensive under Tom's hands. Finally giving up on cleaning it any further as a bad bet, he pulled out his wallet. Getting out twenty dollars, he tried to press it into the man's hands. "Here. Let me pay to get that cleaned."

The man's face cleared, pushing his hand away. "No, that's way too much money."

"Really, I insist." Tom was feeling guilty now, but the man continued to refuse to take his money. Finally, he put the twenty back in his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here. Please email me the actual cost, then. I'll send you a check."

The man sighed, but took the business card. "I suppose so. It's really not that big a deal."

"I know, but it'll make me feel better over being such a careless klutz."

The man smiled, picked up his own drink and saluted him with it, making his way to the other end of the bar. Tom stood there for a minute, staring after him, then finally sighed, picked up his beer - what was left of it - and made his way back to Susan.

 

Chapter Two

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur. Susan deftly steered the subject away from George, and soon had him laughing at the antics of some the nurses she worked with. At some point, a soft-spoken blonde took the stage and started singing folk songs, but it wasn't loud enough to distract him from the conversation with Susan.

In return, he talked about his latest clients, who couldn't decide what they were going to do with the building they were paying him design, not understanding that form follows function and that he couldn't just design blindly. Susan laughed in all the right places, but every so often her eyes were grow soft, and he noticed that she was touching him a lot more than usual.

He also kept hearing a voice, one that he felt like he should recognize, just at the edge of his hearing. He could only catch a word or two, hear or there, but he knew that he heard the word "Dance" and "Ask him" a few times. Ignoring it became a bigger strain as the evening wore on, and the alcohol that he was drinking wasn't helping. It was getting harder and harder to drown it out.

Finally, he snapped. "Don't you hear that?" he asked Susan.

"Hear what? The music? It's lovely, isn't it? Far cry from this place's usual bands, I think," Susan replied, slouching down in her seat. She looked more than a little drunk.

"Ask him," came the voice again, and Tom looked around. There were a lot of people in the bar, but no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to them, and he couldn't hear anyone else with that breathy quality to their voice. "No, not the singer. Something else. Someone keeps telling me 'ask him to dance' and I can't figure out who it is."

Susan sat up a bit straighter. "I'm not hearing anything like that. Maybe you're just hearing someone else's conversation?"

Tom shook his head, but finally shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just too drunk to be out in public."

Susan smiled. "You should go home. _I_ should go home. Tomorrow is going to _hurt_ because I have no idea how much I've had to drink."

Laughing, Tom pulled himself to his feet, watching as the room spun. "Uh, yeah. I think I need to call a cab, actually. How about you?" Susan didn't need to answer, though, because when she stood, she wavered on her feet. "I think you need a cab as well. Did you drive?"

"Nah. I should call Jennifer. She can get us both home."

Tom's stomach clenched. He didn't want to think about the fact that he didn't have anyone to call. "Okay. You call her, and I'll let Jaimie know that I'm leaving my car overnight." Susan nodded, already pulling out her cell phone.

Wobbly, Tom made his way to the bar, and waited till he had Jaimie's attention. "I'm too drunk to drive, Jaimie. Susan's going to get me home - can I leave my car till tomorrow?"

"Of course, man. You gonna be okay?" Jaimie looked concerned.

"What? I'll be fine. Just had a bit too much." Tom shook his head and laughed.

"I know, man. That's why I asked. You don't normally drink too much." Shit, this wasn't good, when even the bartender thought that he was behaving oddly. But he just flashed a grin at Jaime and made his way back to Susan.

"She should be here in a few minutes." Susan still looked wobbly, and Tom wrapped his arm around her, even though he didn't feel much steadier than she looked. Slowly, they made their way out of the bar, finally leaning against the wall beside the front door. Jennifer was as good as Susan's word, pulling up less than five minutes later. Tom poured Susan into the front seat and then collapsed into the back seat. Jennifer looked a little anxious, but she didn't say anything as she pulled out into the sparse traffic.

The drive home was a blur, and Tom was thankful when the car came to a stop in front of his house. He was also thankful that he'd not sold the place, even though George had asked him to more than once. He'd not been willing to give up that much of his freedom, even if he'd not stayed there often, sleeping at George's house more often than not.

Tom hauled himself out of the car and stumbled up the front walk. The world was spinning around him as he floundered around with his keys, finally managing to slide it into the lock. As he opened the door and turned on the light, he turned around and waved at Jennifer, who waved back and pulled away.

The house was cold and lonely feeling, and Tom whimpered slightly. He really wanted to be with George right now, but the throbbing in his face reminded him on why that was a bad idea. He leaned against the closed front door with a thump and groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was getting too old for this shit.

His head started to ache, and he decided that water and then bed would be a very good idea. Moving carefully, he made his way to the kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and downed half of it in one long swallow. Holding the cold bottle against the bruise on his cheek, his eyes trawled over the surfaces in the kitchen, only to realize that the light on the answering machine was blinking. Reluctantly, he crossed the room and pressed the button.

"Tom, it's me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Please call me?"

"Baby, it's me again. I'm really, really, really sorry. I shouldn't have hit you, shouldn't have started a fight. Please call me?"

"Tom, I'm getting worried. Please call me, let me know you're o-"

Practically punching the off button, Tom flinched as George's voice cut off. He'd sounded really upset, and more than a little sorry. Maybe he should rethink this whole splitting up thing. After all, wasn't everyone entitled to make the occasional mistake?

Setting the bottle down, he slammed through the house, heading for the garage. Turning on the light, he stared around a little frantically, until his eyes lit on the punching bag hanging in the corner. Three rapid steps brought him within range, and then he started swinging for all his might, imaging that it was George's face under his hands.

He knew that he shouldn't be doing this, especially without gloves or at least taping his knuckles, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Punch after punch landed on the bag, faster and faster. He ignored the way that his breath started coming faster, and more shallow. He ignored the way that his chest started to burn, the way that his shoulders and arms started to hurt, the way his knuckles were leaving little red smears every time he landed another blow, the low growls and sounds of rage that he was making.

He ignored all of it in favor of smashing his anger and his hurt out.

When he finally couldn't breathe anymore, he grabbed the bag, hanging on for dear life. Gradually, his breathing slowed, and he slid down the bag, kneeling on the floor, head still leaning against the bag.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that, mind a comforting blank. When the ache from kneeling on the cement floor started to penetrate the easy haze surrounding his brain, he sighed and pulled himself back up. He avoided looking at his hands, knowing that the moment he did that they'd start to hurt. Instead he clumsily walked back into the house.

Between the drunken haze and the fog from his unexpected exercise, he was pleasantly numb, and he didn't try to get back to himself as he climbed the stairs. He debated a shower for all of about three seconds, and then decided that morning would be soon enough. Going into the bedroom, he fell down on the bed without bothering to strip or pull down the covers and fell asleep immediately.

 

Chester's interlude

Chester was a little worried about his great-grandson. His hands were a mess, he was breathing heavily, and he wasn't sure, but he thought that he might be crying in his sleep.

Then he turned over and said "George," in his sleep, and Chester felt anger replacing concern. The son of a bitch had hit him. He didn't deserve to be in Tom's dreams. So Chester settled down on the bed by Tom's head and started stroking his fingers through Tom's hair, petting him softly. His great-grandson may be a full-grown man, but he was still hurt, and he was still Chester's responsibility. He had been ever since Tom's parents died when he wasn't much more than a teenager.

"Shhh, Tom. It'll be all right in the morning. It will all be fine."

Tom murmured something too softly for Chester's old ears to hear, but his face softened and he started breathing slower, more deeply. Chester smiled and settled more deeply on the bed, petting and easing his great-grandson.

Chapter Three

The sun shining in the window woke Tom far too early the next morning. For a moment, all seemed right with the world, and then he turned over.

Simultaneously, his head and hands exploded into pain. He whimpered, curling into a ball. Then his stomach got into the act and he had to force himself to his feet. Carefully, he felt his way to the bathroom, trying not to open his eyes. Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, he emptied his stomach.

For long moments, he rested his forehead on the cool porcelain, until he felt like he could stand without throwing up again. Finally, he pulled himself to his feet, eyes still half shut, and stared down at his hands.

They were abraded and scabbed from where he'd been hitting the bag with no protection, and he knew that if he went and looked there'd be matching bloody spots on the bag. Instead, he haphazardly stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as he could stand it. Letting the hot water wash over him, he moaned as his head pounded.

Eventually, the water started to cool, and he gave his body a cursory wash and rinsed off. Just as the water went cold completely, he turned it off and stepped out. Delaying toweling off, he opened the medicine cabinet with shaking hands and pulled out the Advil. He took four, and then leaned against the door, head hanging.

As the pounding began to recede, he reached for the toothbrush, but stopped when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He forced himself to stare, wondering what other people saw when they looked at him. He saw a shock of black hair, that no matter how much gel he used he couldn't control. Fair skin that showed only the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. Bright blue eyes, a little bloodshot this morning. Backing up, he looked down over his chest. He wasn't heavily muscled, but he had good definition. He wasn't a bear, only a little chest hair, also black. For a guy who was thirty-four, he looked pretty good, actually.

Hopefully, other guys would see the same thing when they looked at him.

He brushed his teeth, feeling a little more hopeful today, then cleaned and bandaged his knuckles. "That was a damn stupid thing to do," he said out loud to himself.

Pulling on a set of sweats, he went into the office. All he really wanted to do was go back to sleep, but he had plans that needed to be done for Monday, and it would be easier to finish them today then try and accomplish something in the crazy office. Besides, he had vague memories of his dreams being haunted by some presence that he couldn't identify and he didn't want to risk that presence coming back.

As his computer came to life, he rested his head on his hand and stared blearily at the screen. Outlook launched, and he started. Twelve new messages. Six of them went straight into the junk mail, three of them were questions from work that could wait till tomorrow, and one was from Susan asking if he was as hung over as she was. He sent back a one word response - "Yes." One was from George, that he didn't even open, just deleted. The last one was from seisen@yahoo.com, with a subject of "Last night."

Not knowing what it was, he debated deleting it sight unseen, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he opened it.

_Tom,_

You probably don't remember me. You spilled beer on me last night at the bar? Just a note to say that you really don't have to pay to clean my sweater, though I appreciate the thought.

Steven

Tom smiled at the memory of that gorgeous red hair, and couldn't resist the urge to respond, even though he knew he should just let it go. It was almost like a little devil was sitting on his shoulder, urging him on.

_Steven,_

Of course I remember you - I wasn't that _drunk. I really do insist that you let me pay for it. Perhaps we could_

Was he really going to type this? He swallowed hard. Why not? The worst thing that could happen would be that Steven would say no.

_get together for a cup of coffee and I could give you however much it cost to clean it._

Tom

 

He hit send before he could over think it, and then resolutely loaded up CAAD. The building wasn't going to design itself.

He spent a pleasant couple of hours lost in the details of building design, so much so that the muted _ding_ of his email notification barely caught his attention. He saved the last few changes to the blueprints and then turned his attention to Outlook.

_Tom,_

If you insist on paying, I'll take it in tomorrow morning. Perhaps we could meet for coffee after work?

Steven

Smiling, Tom nodded to himself. It probably wouldn't go anywhere, but it would serve as a distraction from the bullshit with George. With a start, he realized that he hadn't thought about George for most of the morning. Maybe things weren't as bad as he thought? He found himself poking at the absence of George like he'd poke a sore tooth. While there was a sense of loss, it didn't hurt as bad as he expected.

This time, the email he sent Steven gave the location of a small coffee shop near his office. Still smiling, he logged off the computer and called a cab to go back to the bar to pick up his car. It was still parked where he'd left it the night before, and he glanced at the door of the bar, contemplating going in for another beer. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly, making him rethink that idea, and he simply headed home.

Once there, he went to the kitchen, where he decided that he felt well enough to attempt to eat. Making an omelet was easy and fast, and he threw one together with the ingredients he had in the fridge.

Just as he settled down at the table to eat, the phone rang. Shooting a regretful glance at his food, he answered it. "Hello?"

"Tom! I was starting to get really worried. Baby, I'm so sorry."

He suppressed the sigh. "I thought I made it clear yesterday that we were over, George. No one hits me. No one. And even before that, you'd gone too far."

"Don't be like that, baby. Come on over, let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. We're done. Don't call me again. Don't try to get Jennifer involved. Just leave me alone."

"Ba-"

Tom hung up the phone, feeling a sense of relief. He'd stuck to his guns, and refused to go back to George, even though that would have been the easy thing to do. He set the phone down and looked at his food. He wasn't hungry any more, and the food looked really unappetizing. With a sigh, he set off to clean up his mess.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of work. The phone rang several more times, and he heard George's voice on the answering machine, but he just erased the messages as they came in, refusing to listen to them. He finally managed to eat something about four thirty, and then he went in the other room to watch some television.

As he was settling back on the couch, the phone rang again. With a grunt of annoyance, he picked it up. "I told you to stop calling!"

"Tom? Are you okay?"

"Oh, hi, Susan. Sorry, George has been calling all afternoon. I'm getting really tired of deleting his messages off the machine." Tom curled up on the couch; bringing his knees up to his chest and letting the phone just rest on his cheek.

He could hear the sounds of Susan drinking something, and then "So; you're sticking to your guns, then? Good."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Just - you've stayed in some pretty bad relationships, you know? And there was a part of me that was afraid that after you calmed down you'd go back to George."

Flushing, Tom was grateful that Susan wasn't sitting in the room with him. She'd always been able to see straight through him, and he didn't want to face the fact that she was right. He had done some spectacularly stupid things over the years. Yet - "Have I ever stayed with someone who's hit me? Give me some credit here, Susan. I'm not that desperate, you know."

"I know, honey. I didn't honestly think that you'd go back to him if you were thinking clearly. I just don't want you lonely."

"Well, for now, that's going to be default setting. Never again. I'm not doing this again. I'm getting too old to play these sorts of games. I'll just... I guess I'll just be the grumpy single guy in the corner, you know? Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Susan giggled, sounding much younger. "You're not going to be single for long, Tom. I have no doubt that some good looking guy is going to snatch you right up."

"Yeah, right." Standing up, Tom made his way back into the kitchen, going over to the fridge and getting out a beer. Popping the cap off, he took a deep swallow.

"Are you drinking again? Didn't you have enough last night? I was so hung over I could barely move this morning."

"Yeah, me too. But I'm just having one beer. That's my limit tonight - I have to work tomorrow."

"Okay. Well, Jennifer wants my attention, so I'd better go. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were doing okay."

Tom didn't even have to fake the amused leer that colored his voice. "I'm sure she wants you. Take care of yourself, and I'll talk to you later."

Susan's voice got suddenly serious. "You are loved, Tom. Don't ever doubt that. Don't doubt that you'll find the right guy, either. It'll happen, and sooner than you think."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Give my love to Jennifer."

Hanging up the phone, he went back into the living room, but he couldn't settle on any one show for very long. He was distracted by what Susan had said. Did he really stick it out in bad relationships? What was different about the break up with George? Shaking his head at himself, he shrugged it off. Too much thinking wasn't good for the soul.

Finally finding a football game, he settled in and watched it absently for a while, and when it was over, he went to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he could have sworn he felt ghostly fingers brushing through his hair.

Chapter Four

Work was long and there were clients to meet with - clients who _still_ didn't know what they wanted to do with the building. More money than sense. All Tom wanted to do was throw up his hands in despair, but instead he managed, somehow, to keep his temper and his cool. A very long, unproductive two hours later, the meeting finally dragged to an end.

Tom went back to his office, only to find another email from Steven - as well as one from George. With a sigh, he trashed the one from George and opened Steven's. It was brief and to the point, agreeing to meet with him at the coffee shop at five o'clock.

The rest of the day was much easier. He was in a spectacularly good mood, even humming to himself, but he didn't want to think to closely about _why_. He also caught himself preening in the mirror in the bathroom, and when that happened, he had to give himself a firm talking to. He didn't even know if Steven was gay. They were just going to meet for coffee - that was all. He'd probably end up giving the guy a check and then never seeing him again.

Five minutes later, he was humming again.

The third time it happened, he gave up and just ran with it. There was something about the look in Steven's eyes, something that had touched some part of Tom. Coffee, and he'd get to see if it was really there, or just a figment of his imagination.

Finally, four thirty rolled around, and he started to close down his office for the day. His secretary, Barbara, looked up as he came out and locked up. "Tom? Everything okay?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately. "Of course, Barb, why wouldn't it?" Barbara was old enough to be his mother, and sometimes she acted like she was.

"I don't know - because it's not even five and you're already leaving? On a Monday?" She clucked at him, and he could feel the color rising in his cheeks. "Are you meeting George somewhere?"

With a start, he realized that he hadn't even thought about George all day. "No, I'm not. We broke up on Saturday."

She made a silent oh. "Is that where the - " she waved at her face.

"Yes, we had a hell of a fight. But I'm okay, honestly, Barb. Don't worry about me," Tom hastened to reassure her.

"Silly boy. Of course you'll be fine, now that you're away from George. And I'm not going to ask any more questions about tonight. Just be good, and if you can't be good, be careful!" she giggled.

"Barbara!" She just giggled at him again, and he finished locking up, shaking his head at her.

It was a nice day, so he walked over the coffee bar, ordering a black coffee and finding a corner table where he could sit and watch for Steven. Right at five, he came in, and if anything, in the light of day he was even more striking than he'd been on Saturday night. His hair was _really_ red, and his clothes were more form fitting - a tight white t-shirt and jeans that made no secret of the fact that he had a hell of a body. Even if this didn't go anywhere, he'd be happy just to fantasize about the man.

He ordered a coffee and turned as he waited, surveying the room. Even from this distance, Tom could see the light of recognition when Steven spotted him.

Drink in hand, he moved across the room. To say he walked would have been to understate the case - Steven moved like a predator, swift and sure. "Hi, Tom, I'm Steven. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

Tom smiled. "I know. But I felt bad - it was my klutziness and that looked like a really nice sweater. So thank you - you're allowing me to assuage some of my guilt over it." Tom took a sip of his coffee, eying Steven over the rim of his cup.

Steven was looking just as intently, and then he licked his lip, and Tom felt his stomach flip over. "So, it cost me five fifty to have it cleaned this morning."

Pulling out his wallet, he fumbled his way through it till he had pulled out the appropriate amount of money and handed it over. He halfway expected Steven to thank him and leave, but instead he shifted in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "So. Do you work around here?"

"Um, yeah. I work in the Hoyt Towers - I'm an architect in one of the firms there." Tom put his wallet away and settled more firmly in the chair. This was going better than he expected. "You?"

"I'm a - you're going to laugh." And Steven's face was flushing. Tom watched in pleased amusement. Steven was so fair that everything showed right up on his face - he'd never be able to hide his emotions with reactions like that.

"No, what? I promise, I won't laugh."

"I'm a personal trainer. I know, I know, how stereotypical - a gay personal trainer, right?"

Tom swallowed hard. This was looking better and better. "You're a personal trainer? Certainly explains why you look so... fit."

Now Steven smiled, even through the lingering remains of his blush. "Yeah. I contract with a few of the local gyms, have a few clients of my own. It gives me a fair amount of free time to do other things."

"Oh? Like what?"

Steven leaned back in his chair, bringing the muscles in his stomach into sharp relief under the tight t shirt he was wearing. "I like to think I'm an artist."

Studying Steven's face, Tom searched for the right reaction. He didn't want to make Steven feel like he was blowing him off, or not taking him seriously. Eventually, he just nodded. "I'd love to see some of your work sometime."

This time, the smile was blinding. "You would? Um, I could certainly show it to you. You know, whenever you have some time to come check it out. No rush. I'm not going anywhere."

Tom's brain seemed to be running at a million miles an hour. Was Steven hitting on him? Was it a casual "any time" sort of invitation, or should he suggest tonight? Then he decided, what the hell. Wasn't the first time that he'd risked getting shot down, he was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was at least worth a try. "Sure. I'm not actually doing anything tonight if you want to show me - or maybe some other time? Whichever is more convenient for you." He shrugged, trying to appear casual.

Standing, Steven tossed his empty cup in the trash. "Tonight works for me, actually. Want to follow me to my place?"

"I'm going to have to get my car, first." Tom gestured towards where Hoyt Towers could be seen through the window. "Shouldn't take me more than about ten minutes. Meet you back here?"

"Sounds good to me."

Tom nodded at him, and headed out the door at a brisk walk. As he walked, his cell phone rang and he answered it without thinking, only to have his heart constrict painfully when George's voice answered. "Oh, baby, thank god. I've been so worried about you."

"I told you not to call again, George. I have no interest in this conversation," Tom hissed.

"C'mon, baby. Don't be like that. You know we're good together."

"You're a fucking lawyer, George. You know what they call it when someone hits you? Battery, isn't it? Be thankful that I'm not pressing charges and leave me the hell alone." Without waiting for an answer, he hung up the phone and hung it back on his belt.

His phone started to ring again, only to cut off as he entered the parking garage. For a long minute, he just leaned against the roof of his car, breathing hard. Thumping his fist down on the roof, he muttered angrily for a moment. Dammit, he'd been having a good day, and George just couldn't keep away from him. Had to spoil it.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax. He was on a - well, he didn't actually know what he was on, but it sure was starting to feel like a date or something. He certainly wasn't going to let George spoil it.

Getting in the car, he pulled out. Just a minute, and he was pulling up in front of the coffee shop, where Steven was waiting for him. He didn't even get out, just waved at Steven, who nodded and made his way over to a small hybrid car - a Prius, he thought - was parked. Waiting patiently while he backed out, he let himself just focus on the driving and ignored the twisting of his gut.

It was a fairly easy drive, even with Monday night traffic, and soon enough they were pulling up in front of a group of old condos. He crept along until he found a space and parked, getting out of the car and pocketing his keys. Steven was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for him.

He led the way up to the entrance to a condo on ground level, on the end of the row. Opening the door, he held it open and waved Tom through, touching him in the small of the back as he passed.

Tom stood blinking, amazed. What had looked like a regular condo from the outside proved to be nothing like one on the inside. The walls, instead of white or off white, were rich colors like burgundy and deep blue. The entire back wall was made up of windows, showing a handsome view of a lake. The furniture was leather, and a light tan. The hardwood floors looked like they were in good condition, and they glowed in the late afternoon sunlight.

Looking over at Steven, he was met by another of those brilliant smiles. It was obvious that he knew how impressive his place was, and enjoyed the reaction that it got. "You like?"

He nodded dumbly. He liked very much. It was... warm, that was the word. It made his own house seem cold by comparison. "Did you do all this yourself?"

"Yep. Told you I was an artist. Here - follow me and I'll show the work I've done." Steven didn't wait for an answer, just turned and headed down the short hallway to one of the rooms.

The first glance in the room made him think that the walls in here were a riot of color, but then he realized that they weren't - they were a soft cream, what little he could see of them. There were so many pictures mounted on the walls that he could barely see any wall.

And the paintings! They were of every conceivable subject. One was a landscape in soft pastels, another that was a nude study of male torso, from thighs to neck done in rich oils. There were buildings and abstracts. It was... "Amazing. Simply amazing."

Steven was excited, pointing out things that he liked about different paintings, moving from one to another as he talked. Tom let the sound wash over him, admiring the way that Steven moved, so self assured, so confident.

When Steven came within reach, Tom didn't try to hold back the urge to touch him, just lightly, on the shoulder. He didn't grab, just lightly laid his hand there, but Steven calmed almost instantly, his smile not dimming, but changing, becoming just a little more intense.

And then they were both moving, coming together, lips pressed tight against one another. It was the first man other than George that Tom had kissed in far too long, and for a moment he was surprised at how unfamiliar it all was. Giving himself a mental shake, he opened his mouth, tasting coffee and something spicy. Steven's tongue slid into his mouth, slowly and carefully, caressing his own tongue, sliding along his teeth.

Just then, his phone rang, and Steven withdrew slowly, his tongue giving a little farewell tap to his lip. He moaned softly, but fumbled for the phone at his waist. One glance and he swore silently. It was George again, and god knew what he was going to have to do to get through to the man that it was over. But the interruption gave him time to think, and he pulled back a little from Steven. "Uh," he started, and then stalled.

"Too fast?" Steven asked sympathetically.

"Yeah. I just broke up with my boyfriend on Saturday, and I guess I'm not as ready as I thought to move on. Maybe... I don't know. We could take it slowly? I really like you, Steven - I think you're a great guy and a fantastic artist, but - "

Steven smiled, a tight little thing. "Yeah, I get it. It's okay. Maybe we could do dinner one night this week, see how that goes?

Relieved, Tom smiled back. "Dinner sounds good. I just need to get my ex to accept that it's really over, and then it'll all be better."

Backing up, Steven moved into the hallway. Tom followed him out, surprised when Steven went to sit on the couch and waved him over. "Just because we're not going to fool around right this moment doesn't mean that we can't talk. Actually, do you want a beer or something?

"No, I think I've had enough beer lately," Tom laughed. "Talking sounds good. So, you really painted all those yourself? Have you ever shown your work? You're really good."

"No, I've never shown them professionally. I _want_ to, but... well, you can guess, I suppose."

Tom sat down, curling his legs up under him. "Yeah. The criticism that goes with a public show is a bitch." He watched the play of emotions over Steven's face. "You really should, though - they deserve to be seen."

Steven flushed attractively, and Tom had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him again. He's the one who said he wasn't ready, after all. It wouldn't be fair to give off mixed signals like that. "So, I guess I should go. I really would like to meet again for dinner. How's Friday for you?"

Giving him an open, happy smile, Steven agreed, and Tom stood. "So, you have my number, right? It was on the business card I gave you."

"Yes, but let me give you mine." Steven pulled out a wallet and handed him a card that just had "Steven Eisner" and a phone number. Tom took it and spent a moment to tuck it carefully into his wallet.

With a smile, Steven bounced to his feet and walked Steven to the door. This time, the hand on his back felt like a definite hint, but Steven didn't press it - till he opened the door. Then he leaned in and gave Tom a soft, chaste kiss that nonetheless was full of promise. Tom found his arms wrapping themselves around Steven's back, pressing him in close, but finally he managed to convince himself to let go.

"See you Friday," Steven whispered in his ear, and Tom nodded before walking out the open door.

The sun had started to set while he'd been in Steven's and he climbed in his car, putting on his sunglasses to banish the glare. For a long moment, he just sat in the front seat, trying to wrap his head around what had happened, but then, with a soft smile, he turned the car on and started off to home.

When he got there, he didn't hesitate. He went straight to the bathroom and stripped off, turning on the shower so that the room started to fill with steam. Climbing into the shower, he washed his hair, and started to wash his body, trying to pretend that he always showered in the evening, that that kiss hadn't gotten to him. As his hand neared his cock, though, pretense fled. His cock was already semi hard, stretching up to meet his hand and with a sigh he wrapped his hand firmly around it.

Closing his eyes, he imagined Steven. Would he like to suck cock? Would he get on his knees and take it deep down his throat, or maybe he preferred to have Tom lie down on the bed. Did he fuck? Tom could just imagine that tight ass, taking his cock eagerly with every stroke. Or maybe Steven preferred to top, would push Tom down and shove into him, hard and fast. He stroked his cock, biting his lip and tightening his hand. It had been a long time since he wanted someone as badly as he wanted Steven right now, and Tom had to admit that if Steven had pushed it, he wouldn't be home jacking off. Instead, he'd be at Steven's still, fucking in any position Steven wanted.

His orgasm snuck up on him, climbing his legs and shivering down his spine, and he came into his hand, with Steven's name on his lips. He let the water rinse his come down the drain, and then got out, drying off and wishing that things were easier.

Chapter Five

It felt like his phone never stopped ringing for the next few days. Calls from George that he ignored. Calls from Susan, checking to make sure that he hadn't wimped out and gone back to George. Only one call from Jennifer, that was awkward as much for what wasn't being said as what was. It didn't help that he kept feeling cold, like he couldn't get warm, no matter how much sun he soaked up or how high he turned the thermostat.

His voice mail on his cell phone was getting full, and he forced himself on Thursday to listen to the messages. They were almost all from George, begging him to come back. Towards the end, they started to get more and more threatening in feel, if not in words. It made Tom deeply uncomfortable, and unsure what to do about it. There wasn't anything he could go to the police about, just a suspicion, and he felt a little guilty for it. It wasn't like George had been an abusive guy - yes, he'd hit him once, but there hadn't ever been even the hint of anything prior to that.

He called Susan, and arranged to meet her for a quick drink after work that night. This time, he beat Susan there, and rather than take up a table, he had a seat at the bar. It was a slow night, and Jamie came over to chat.

"So, your face looks better," Jamie said, waving his hand at his face.

"Yeah, I guess. Doesn't hurt as much, anyway." Tom leaned his head on hand, waiting for Susan and sipping slowly at his beer.

"So, did you run into a door or what? Or maybe someone's fist?" Jamie was looking at him straight on, almost daring him to lie.

"I - oh, hell. Got into a fight with George."

"The bastard hit you? I hope to god you called the cops." Jamie looked incensed, and Tom was a little surprised. It wasn't like he and Jamie were friends or anything. Then again, he spent more time here that he had at home with George for the last three months, and what did that say about his relationship with George before they broke up?

Shaking his head, he said, "No, but I walked out on him."

Just then, Jamie's eyes darted over his shoulder and he swore quietly. "Just stay here, Tom. I have something to take care of." But Tom couldn't resist looking back at the entrance of the bar, where George was standing.

"Aw, shit. Don't get involved, Jamie. I'll take care of it." Before Jamie could argue, Tom had slid off the stool and was making his way over to where George was standing. "What the hell are you doing here, George? Haven't I made it clear that I'm not interested in talking to you?"

"Please, baby. We were good together. You can't mean it, you're just mad at me. I don't blame you, I just want to say I'm sorry." George looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot, with huge bags. He looked like he hadn't shaved or slept in days, and Tom felt his stomach twist. He'd loved George for so long, and seeing him like this was awful. There was part of him that didn't want to do anything but take George home and tuck him into bed.

But this was the bastard who'd accused him of cheating on him, who'd wanted to control who'd he'd seen, who he'd talked to, and who'd _hit_ him. He didn't owe George anything.

"Go home, George. Get on with your life. You don't want me, you want someone you can control, and that won't be me. That's it, it's over. Now, don't make a public scene out of this." Over George's shoulder, he saw Susan approach, her eyes wide. He could sense more than saw Jamie coming up behind him, giving him even more back up. "I'm tired of this game you're playing. Just... go home."

George opened his mouth to say something, and Tom turned away, not wanting to hear it. George grabbed his arm, turning him back to face him. "This isn't over, Tom. You're mine, and I don't lose what's mine."

Ignoring the way that George's fingers were biting into his arm, Tom stared into George's eyes. "I'm not yours. I never was your property, George. Get over yourself before I call the cops. That wouldn't do your career any good, you know,"

Susan grabbed George's arm. "Let go of him, now. You don't want to do this."

George dropped his arm like it burned him, and turned to go. But there was a flash of something in his eyes that told Tom this was far from over. For just a moment, he was afraid.

He stood there, watching, until George went and got into his car. Then he turned to face Susan and Jamie. "Thanks, guys. Hopefully it got through this time."

Susan had her lips folded together, pressed together so hard that they were white. "I don't like this, Tom. You should have called the police and let them handle it." Jamie nodded, adding his agreement to Susan's.

"That would just escalate things, you two. Hopefully he'll leave me alone now." Forcing a smile onto his face he looked at Susan. "How about that drink now?"

Jamie went back behind his bar, and Susan followed him back to his stool. Sitting on the one next to him, she said, "I'd ask how you're doing, but I don't think you're going to tell me the truth. You look like hammered shit, honey."

Tom laughed at that. "Hammered shit, huh? That's what happens when your phone rings at all hours of the day and night. But things will get better - George can't keep this up forever."

Susan frowned. "You're going to have to do something about him. He's not going to leave you alone until you do."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing, Susan. I can handle it. I'm not going to go running to the cops, because that's not going to fix anything. I just wish I knew how he'd known I'd be here tonight." Susan looked guilty at that.

"I, uh, might have mentioned that we were meeting to Jennifer. She doesn't know anything except that you two had a fight, so she might have let him know you were here."

Tom sighed. It wasn't Susan's fault, and she looked so broken up about it he didn't have the heart to say anything harsh. It wasn't like he was going to ask Susan to start keeping secrets from Jennifer anyway, so Tom cast around for something to change the subject to. "Hey! Did I mention I have a date tomorrow night?"

"You? Have a date? Why haven't I heard about this?" Susan looked satisfactorily distracted, and Tom grinned.

"You're hearing about it now, aren't you? Yeah, his name is Steven and he's an artist - he's the guy I spilled beer on last weekend. We met so that I could pay for his dry cleaning, and he invited me back to his place to see his paintings. They're beautiful, Susan. Absolutely breath taking. He really should have a show at a gallery or something - if I knew any contacts I would hook him up myself."

Susan smiled. "You do know contacts - you know me and I know a gallery owner. Maybe at some point I could get a look at this art?"

Nodding, Tom took another sip of his beer. "Let's see how my date goes on Friday, shall we? If it goes well, I'll see about getting you in to see it. He's got this one painting - it's a male nude, from thighs to neck? And it's beautiful. The colors are so gorgeous, there's just no describing it."

"Sounds lovely, Tom. Now, you managed to distract me, but I still want to know what you're going to do about George. I get the feeling that he's not going to back off any time soon. You're going to have to do something proactive."

He sighed. "You'd think he'd get the hint by now. I've been dodging his calls all week." Shaking his head, he picked up his glass only to realize it was empty. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and he shuddered. He really really wanted another beer, but he had to work tomorrow and he had promised Susan that it would just be for one drink.

Susan sipped her wine and studied his face. "Do you want me to talk to him, Tom? Maybe he'd hear it better from me."

"Nah. I don't need other people fighting my battles for me. Just need him to take a little space and think about it - he'll figure out that it's for the best, and back off."

"If you're sure, honey." She finished her wine. "I should get going. Jennifer and I have a date tonight since I'm not on call."

Tom nodded and stood up, waiting for Susan to slip off her seat. Leaving money on the bar to cover the cost of both drinks, he walked her out to her car and then went to get in his own. He started to back up, only to stop at the _thump, thump_ sound that he heard. Putting the car back in park, he got out to look and realized that the rear passenger tire was flat.

It was only as he was changing it, though, that he realized that it had been slashed. He contemplated calling the police for a minute, but he knew that he couldn't prove that George had done it, even if he suspected it strongly. Instead he changed it, and loaded the tire in the trunk.

Driving home carefully, he groaned as he realized that he was going to have to take the morning off from work to get the tire fixed, but he didn't know what the plan was with Steven and didn't want to have to rely on the donut to get him wherever he needed to go. Thankfully, he didn't have any meetings in the morning, and if he put in a few hours tonight, then he wouldn't be behind in the afternoon.

Pulling up in front of his house, he sighed and rested his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. Then he got out of the car and headed into the house. It still was rather cold inside, but the feeling of disuse had dissipated somewhat with him being there every night for the last week. There was actual food in the kitchen, and while it cooked he contemplated getting a cat - something so that the house wouldn't feel so empty.

Maybe he'd go to the pound on Saturday morning, depending on how his date with Steven went.

Just then, the phone rang. Ignoring the persistent ring, he let it go to the answering machine. When Steven's voice came through, though, he lunged for the phone, picking it up. "Um, hi. Sorry about that."

"No problem. So, I was thinking about tomorrow night. How about you come here? I could cook dinner."

Tom leaned back against the counter. "Wow. Personal trainer, artist, and you cook, too? You really are too good to be true."

"Well, you haven't tasted the cooking yet. But I think I'm pretty good. Is that a yes?"

"Sure. Sounds good. What time do you want me there?"

"Seven?"

"Seven it is. See you then." At Steven's bye, Tom hung up the phone, smiling widely. At least one thing was going right.

When dinner was finished cooking, he carried the plate through to the den, where he launched his computer and loaded up the CAAD software. Work. He needed to do work. The designs were finally coming along nicely, and he thought that he might be on the right track, considering that the owners were a bunch of dunderheads. He spent a happy few hours working on the fine details that he was so well known for, and when he finally shut down the program it was with a feeling of a job well done.

Turning on the evening news, he tried to ignore the shudder that ran down his spine. It came with an overwhelming feeling of presence, and unable to resist, he called out. "Is anyone there?"

Only silence answered him, but the feeling intensified. Now he was completely cold, and it felt like there was someone standing directly behind him. When he turned around, though, there was no one there. Shaking himself all over, he tried to push the feeling away. Failing that, he moved to the bedroom. As he moved away from the living room, the feeling faded and he laughed at himself. What did he expect after the week he'd had? Obviously he was imagining things.

Stripping down to his shorts, he climbed under the sheets. It didn't take long, and then he was dreaming.

Chester Interlude Two

Chester worried. George had been outside the house, watching his great grandson. He wasn't sure if there was any way to get through to Tom. He'd practically been screaming in his face, but he didn't react. At least he'd finally gotten out of direct view of the window - that was something. Chester didn't want to think why George was watching Tom like this. After all, he knew that Tom was still ignoring his phone calls.

With a sigh, he sat down on the stairs outside Tom's room. He still wasn't sure what he'd be able to do if George came in - he was a big guy, after all, but standing guard made him feel more than a little bit better.

Chapter Six

The next morning was an unmitigated disaster. Finding a mechanic's shop that had his tire in stock and had time to change it right away was almost impossible, and by the time he got to the office he was already in a cranky mood. Barbara took one look at him and bit her lip, swallowing back what ever she'd been contemplating saying, and Tom nodded, unlocking his office and going in.

He settled at his desk, turning on his computer and desk light, then took a deep breath. It wasn't cool that Barbara was afraid to say something to him. He didn't want her afraid of him.

Sticking his head back out, he looked at Barbara. "Come in here, would you?"

She nodded and scurried in, and he felt even worse. "You know that I'm not mad at you, right?" Barbara nodded, but didn't say anything, making him feel guilty. "Am I that bad?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, not really. Just when you have that look on your face, it seems best to stay out of your way until you're feeling better."

"What look on my face? I have a look?"

Now Barbara's smile was wide and unforced. "That one. The one that says that the world isn't going as you want it to, and it had better stop it right now or you're going to do something not good."

Tom concentrated on relaxing his face, on trying to erase whatever look it was that Barbara was referring to. Barbara relaxed in response. "Sorry, it's been a bad morning. Had to go get my tire replaced - someone slashed one of them last night."

"Well, you're forgiven then. That's a terrible thing to happen. Did you call the police?"

"Nah, what would be the point of that? It's not like they'd be able to do anything about it. I just went and got a new one this morning."

Barbara folded her lips together, but didn't say anything. Tom could tell that this time it wasn't because of fear but rather because she'd already decided that there wasn't anything that she could say to persuade him. As that was true, he didn't try to pry, just said, "Okay. We've been lallygagging long enough. What's on the schedule for what's left of today? And I need to leave by six, so if you could remind me before you left, I'd appreciate it."

Barbara looked a little shocked at that, and Tom reflected that it probably had something to do with the fact that he almost never left on time and here it was, twice in one week that he was getting out. He needed to be careful or Barbara might have a heart attack.

They went back to their respective work, and Tom lost himself in the intricacies of building design, so much so that he was surprised when Barbara stuck her head in the door. "It's five thirty, Tom. I'm off, okay?"

"Of course, Barbara. I'll see you on Monday." As soon as she left, he set about shutting down what he had been working on. As he did, he started to feel nervous, feel it in the pit of his stomach. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he wanted to, he could get laid tonight - with someone other than George. The question was did he want that? He still wasn't sure.

It was surprising how easy the drive was back to Steven's. He might have only been there once, but it seemed that the directions were already imprinted into his brain, not that he'd been fantasizing about coming back to that gorgeous apartment and perhaps doing more than getting one kiss. He flashed on masturbating on the shower and could feel himself flushing. Okay, so he had fantasized. Repeatedly. Didn't change the fact that he still wasn't sure where tonight was going.

Pulling up in front of Steven's building, he parked and got out, taking with him the bottle of wine that he'd picked up on the way over. He took a deep breath, and then knocked on Steven's door. It opened almost immediately, and there was Steven.

He was wearing some sort of white, flowing shirt that showed off his coloring to perfection. It also had the bonus effect of showing the muscles in his chest, as it was practically see through. The skin tight jeans accentuated the bulge in the front of his trousers, and when he turned to lead the way into the condo, they also showed off his fine ass. Tom swallowed hard. Maybe the decision wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

The table was already set, and Tom handed over the bottle of wine happily. There were some excellent smells coming from the kitchen, and Tom stopped Steven long enough to kiss him chastely. "Smells good."

"Hopefully it'll taste as good as it smells," Steven responded, and kissed him back.

Tom opened his mouth for Steven to explore, but was surprised when Steven didn't take advantage of it, instead ending the kiss quickly. "We have food to eat first," he smiled, "but maybe afterwards?"

"Sure thing. I'm starving. What's for dinner, anyway?" Tom sat down where Steven pointed, and settled into the chair. Steven disappeared into the kitchen, and returned quickly bearing two plates. There was steak, and potatoes, and what looked like sautéed spinach. "Oh, this looks fantastic!"

Steven smiled and set the plate in front of him, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. Tom waited till he was settled and then cut into the steak. It was cooked perfectly, still pink in the middle, and the first bite melted in his mouth. He moaned in pleasure and swallowed. "Oh, this is as good as it looks!" The potatoes were crispy skinned and loaded with butter and sour cream, and the spinach had just the right amount of garlic. Tom couldn't believe how good the food was. Steven was just as enthusiastic as he was, digging into his food and eating quickly but neatly.

As they ate, they chatted amicably. Tom found himself telling stories about clients, about Barbara, even about Susan and Jennifer, though he neatly avoided the subject of George. He didn't want to think about him tonight.

When they finished, they took their glasses of wine over to the couch, and Tom found himself curled up next to Steven, who smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a small peck on the check. "I'm so full I don't think I can move," Tom said, and Steven nodded.

"That's fine. There's a hockey game on tonight - interested?"

"Sure, that sounds good." Steven picked up the remote control and aimed it at the plasma screen television hanging on the wall. It sprang to life, and in moments, Steven had the game on. Tom let himself sink deeper into the couch, and leaned into the comfortable arm around his shoulders. It was soothing, he realized. Steven wasn't making any demands and in fact seemed perfectly content to just sit here and watch the game.

Even as he thought that, he turned his face, putting it within inches of Steven's. Leaning forward, he couldn't resist dropping the soft kiss on Steven's lips. This time, when Steven reciprocated, he deepened the kiss, letting Steven in. Steven kissed slow, and he kissed _dirty_. His tongue did things that should have been illegal in several states, twisting around Tom's, fucking in and out of his mouth.

When they finally broke apart, Tom rested his forehead on the point of Steven's shoulder. Unlike earlier in the week, he felt no compulsion to stop, or even slow things down. So he lifted his face for another kiss even as his finger sought out the buttons on the front of Steven's shirt. Unbuttoning two of them, he let his hand move inside his shirt, sliding over smooth, hot skin.

Steven made a soft sound into his mouth, and then his hands were on Tom's shirt, untucking it and sliding it up his back. Tom moaned and shifted forward on the couch even further, letting Steven have access. Steven took advantage, breaking the kiss long enough to tug Tom's shirt up and over his head. Then he stopped and just _looked_. "My god, you're good looking," he breathed.

Tom felt the blood rush to his face, and he ducked his head without moving his hand. "Not like you. You're... striking."

Steven chuckled and used one of his hands to raise Tom's face. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're gorgeous." Before Tom could respond, Steven was kissing him, mouth busy on his, hands tracing the long muscles of his back. Tom turned his attention back to getting Steven out of his shirt, and finally, the shirt was unbuttoned. Pushing it back off his shoulders, he noted when Steven's breathing hitched as the shirt bunched around his wrists, but he didn't take advantage, just kept pushing till the shirt was completely off and then they were pressing chest to chest and it felt so good.

Steven ducked his head, kissing along Tom's neck. Tom tipped his head back, letting Steven have easy access to whatever he wanted. He found the spot on Tom's neck that never failed to make him moan, and when Steven discovered that, he spent long moments worrying it with his teeth, then licking the sting away. When he finally backed off, Tom captured his face in his hand and lifted it so that he could kiss him deeply.

Steven tasted of steak and garlic and the wine they'd both been drinking, and he luxuriated in the taste for long moments. Then Steven broke free and panted, "Let me." Pushing him back against the back of the couch, he moved lower, tracing his collar bone with the tip of his tongue, getting another heartfelt groan from Tom. And then he went lower still, gently taking one nipple into his mouth, and Tom arched his back and shouted. His nipples were so sensitive that normal nipple play hurt, but Steven wasn't being anything but gentle, and Tom keened softly as the pleasure washed over him.

This time, when Steven lifted his head, Tom was too boneless with pleasure to do anything besides lick his lips. "More?" Steven asked, and Tom nodded dumbly. Steven ducked his head to the other nipple as his fingers played gently with the first one, keeping Tom on that fine edge of _pleasurepain_. Just as it was becoming too much, Steve moved lower, sucking his way along the muscles of Tom's belly that bunched and clenched against the onslaught.

When he reached the waist of Tom's pants, he sat back up, leaving Tom totally shattered and harder than he'd ever been on his couch. "I think we should move to a bed," Steven said with a grin. Tom nodded but pulled Steven in for a deep kiss. When Steven pulled back, his eyes were dark with arousal, his lips bruised and swollen.

They both stood up, but Tom had difficulty walking as all the blood in his body was currently pooled below the waist. Every step brushed his cock against the soft material of his briefs, and he moaned softly, stopping to lean against the wall. Steven laughed softly and looped his arm around Tom's waist, but the mere touch seemed like fire against his skin. Standing up straight, he waited for Steven to step into the lead again and then followed him to the bedroom.

He hadn't seen this room before, and it was as well decorated as the others, with a large bed taking up the middle of the floor. That was all he had eyes for as he stopped. Steven was already unbuckling his pants and sliding down his muscled thighs, and Tom couldn't resist, dropping to his knees in front of Steven and tugging down his boxer briefs till they were wrapped around Steven's thighs, his large cock bobbing in front of his mouth. He laid a small kiss on the tip, and Steven inhaled sharply.

"Please, Tom, don't tease," he gasped out and Tom smiled up at him, lifting one eyebrow. Then, opening his mouth, he sucked just the crown of Steven's cock into his mouth. Running his tongue over the firm surface, he grinned internally at the loud gasp that got, and then Steven's hands were tangling in his hair, tugging at him lightly, encouraging him to take more.

With a groan, he did just that, sliding his mouth down the length of Steven's cock, taking as much of it as he could. He wrapped his hand around the base, and started to jack him in time to his mouth moving over his dick, tasting only clean male musk. Steven was leaking copiously, and Tom swallowed, earning himself a soft moan. With a final swallow, he pulled back till Steven's cock popped out of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrow again in question.

In answer Steven growled and pulled him to his feet, kissing him fast and hard, and then turning him slightly and pushing him, so that Tom fell on the bed. Pouncing on him, he rubbed his cock enthusiastically against Tom's hip, his own thigh pressed tight between Tom's legs. Tom keened again, spreading his legs wider. "Oh, fuck, yeah," he groaned.

Steven nuzzled against his neck, his hands busy between them as he undid Tom's pants. He couldn't pull them down without moving, though, so he rolled off of Tom and the two of them shed pants, shoes and socks, and Tom took a moment to look over Steven. He was evenly muscled all over, that fair skin flushed and hot. His cock was hard and jutting out, with just the faintest of curves to the right, and the only body hair he had was right around his cock. Every where else looked as if it had been waxed, and Tom had a moment of concern over his own furry chest and thighs.

But Steven just leaned up and ran one hand up through the chest hair that was so thick on Tom's chest. "I love guys with some body hair. Feels so good against my skin." Fear assuaged, Tom pulled Steven over so that he was lying on top of Tom again, and their cocks brushed together. Tom choked, but Steven just thrust gently against him.

For some unknown period of time, they lay there, thrusting gently together, kissing each other deeply. When Tom couldn't stand it anymore, he spread his legs wide. "You could fuck me, if you want."

Steven bit his lip and then said, "God yes. I've wanted to fuck you since you spilled that beer on me."

"That long, huh?"

"Damn straight." Steven came up on his knees, and Tom whimpered as he lost contact with Steven's hard body. But his hand came down on his nipple, tweaking it gently. "Shhh. Just need to get supplies." And he was as good as his word, returning in a moment with lube and condoms.

Tom spread his legs eagerly, and Steven laughed and leaned down to kiss him. "Eager, aren't you?"

He was. He was so eager he was damn near desperate for it, and he nodded frantically. Steven opened the tube of slick and spread some on his fingers. Tom moaned and canted his hips for easy access, letting Steven circle his entrance with one finger, tracing a slow path around but not quite where he needed it so badly. He teased him for so long, that when the tip of one finger dipped inside he let out a yell and pulled his legs up and back. "Oh, please, please, please..."

"Is this what you want?" Steven asked, slowly sliding one finger inside.

It wasn't - he wanted Steven's thick cock filling him up, but it was a good start, and he nodded. Steven smiled and suddenly drove it deep, causing Tom to let out a yowl like a cat. Each deep thrust of that finger burned and stretched him, and he was already dazed with pleasure when Steven pulled back and then slid back in with two fingers. Tom was rocking in place, letting each stroke pass over that spot that made him so hot, that made him moan and keen.

The next time Steven pulled back, he grabbed Steven's wrist. "No more. I just want you, now."

Steven nodded, and pulled his fingers out completely, leaving Tom aching and empty. It didn't last long, though, as Steven rolled the condom down over his hard cock. Then he laid one lube slick hand on Tom's hip. "Turn over. Want to take you from behind."

Tom groaned aloud at that and rolled, getting his knees under him and pressing his shoulders into the bed. Hands gripped his hips, pulling him higher, and then a firm, blunt pressure was pressing into his ass. It burned and stretched in all the good ways, leaving him moaning and shuddering. "Oh, yeah, that's what I wanted," he mumbled into the mattress.

Steven laughed, and started to move, setting a slow rhythm that preceded to undo all of Tom's defenses. He was rocking in place, letting every stroke nail his prostate, and each one was just the most perfect ever, till the next perfect stroke that passed over his hot spot. He could feel the familiar burn of his oncoming orgasm start to gather at the small of his back, twisting and turning through all the nerves in his body.

Then there was a wet hand sliding under his body, around his cock, and he thrust forward into that wet, slick tunnel, back into the hard cock that was hammering into his prostate. With a loud cry, he felt his orgasm slam through him like a tsunami, washing away sensation and thought. He vaguely felt Steven pushing him flat, felt the speed and force of his thrusts speed up, and then the sudden increase of warmth as Steven came, filling the condom.

Steven collapsed straight down on top of him, and Tom hummed contentedly at the feeling of warmth blanketing his body. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had sex as satisfying as this had been - the last few months with George had been one fight after another and he'd hardly felt like having sex at all. Eventually, Steven groaned, and pulled out, causing Tom to hiss as muscles that weren't used to being stretched so thoroughly protested. He heard the soft sounds of Steven getting off the bed and padding away, and then there was a warm washcloth making its way down his back and between his cheeks. He hummed pleasantly at the feeling of being taken care of, and turned obediently as Steven tugged on one hip.

His cock, balls, and stomach were all cleaned up, and then Steven lay down next to him, pulling him close. "I should go," he mumbled, eyes already closing.

"You should stay," Steven countered, kissing his hair. He didn't feel it, though. He was already asleep.

Chapter Seven

When Tom woke, it was still dark in the room. Somehow, Steven had gotten them both under the covers, and they were wrapped around one another. He thought about getting up, going home, but he was too comfortable to move. Steven turned just then, plastering his backside against Tom's front, and his body, which was thanking him for getting laid well for the first time in far too long started to demand _again, again_!

He tried to ease back before his hard-on could wake Steven, but he murmured sleepily. Tom couldn't resist pressing one kiss to his hair, only to have Steven wrap his hand over Tom's. "Just like this," he said clearly.

"Steven, are you awake?" Tom asked, trying to make sure that he wasn't just talking in his sleep.

"Yeah, I'm awake. Fuck me?"

Even if Tom had been tempted to say no, Steven stretched, muscles flexing in his ass and thighs. Tom eased his hands away from Steven's grip. "Turn on your belly," he whispered.

Steven did as he was told, resting his head on his crossed arms, legs spread wide. Tom sat up and then slid between Steven's legs, laying soft kisses along his shoulders and back. Each kiss caused Steven to loosen up further, so by the time Tom reached his goal, Steven was loose and relaxed. Spreading his ass wide, Tom leaned down and laid a nipping kiss right over his entrance.

Steven hissed and bucked slightly. Tom tightened his grip on Steven's hips. "Hold still for me." This time Steven sounded a lot more awake when he agreed, and Tom dove in. licking and sucking for all he was worth. Sliding his tongue into Steven's entrance, he tongue fucked him fast and sloppy, getting him good and wet, feeling fresh sweat spring out all over Steven's body. He loved the power inherent in rimming, the way that someone being licked would shudder and shake and spread himself wider for the erotic caress.

Just then, Steven reached back and pulled his cheeks wide for Tom, and Tom groaned into Steven's body, trying to get even deeper. Only when Steven was moaning steadily did Tom stop, pulling back just enough to slip two fingers into his ass. It was snug, and all he could think about was sliding his cock into that tight, wet space.

When the tight grip that Steven's ass had started to loosen up around his fingers, he slid them out. Turning over, he reached for the nightstand, pulling out the lube and a condom. "I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered into Steven's ear.

"God, yes." Steven turned on his side, pulling his top leg up towards his chest. Tom rolled the condom down over his cock, slathering it with lube, and then gently pressed it into Steven's willing entrance.

He didn't touch Steven's cock, instead stroking softly over his inner thigh and balls, feeling him quiver and gasp. He was determined to make it last, and this was a good position for it, letting him go slow and deep. Steven didn't try to touch himself, just held his leg out of the way and letting Tom touch and move him however he wanted him. "You feel so good inside, Steven. Hot and tight, so good."

Steven hummed and started to move, rocking slightly into each stroke, tightening down even further around Tom's cock. "Mmmm, do that again," Tom groaned. Steven chuckled breathily and slowly, deliberately, tightened his hole again.

Tom groaned and decisively reached for Steven's cock, gripping it tightly around the base. He was surprised by the reaction that got, because Steven relaxed completely with a soft moan. "You like that, Steven? You like it when I stop you from coming?"

"Yes." It was almost a whimper, and Steven rocked again, a little more forcefully. Tom held him still with the simple expedient of tightening his grip on Steven's cock.

"You want me to take control? You want to do what I tell you?"

"Yes." And this time it was definitely a whimper. Tom felt a rush of power slide through him, and it was all he could do not to just flip Steven over and fuck him hard. Instead, he continued to hold his cock in that implacable grip, while he worked his other arm under his chest, wrapping it around so he could pinch and roll one of Steven's nipples. "Fuck, harder," he cried.

Tom took a deep breath and did just that, pinching it hard and feeling Steven pant over his arm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He could feel the heat of Steven's skin as he blushed. "Yeah, there's a first date for you. Fuck me, and by the way, I like it when the guy I'm with takes control away from me, and a little pain wouldn't go amiss either."

This time, the twist was brutal enough to make Tom's nipples ache in sympathy. "You can still talk too clearly," he said. "Gonna have to fix that."

Steven whimpered, but fell quiet. Then there was the barely breathed word. "Anything."

Tom groaned and bit down on Steven's neck, causing him to convulse under him. "Don't come, Steven, just... hold it."

With that, Tom released his grip on Steven's cock, gripping his hip instead. Rocking steadily, he alternated sloppy wet kisses with sharp bites to Steven's neck and shoulder as he rocked into him deeply. "I'm gonna come in you, but I want you to hold it."

Steven whined, but nodded, and Tom started to fuck him in earnest, feeling Steven start to shiver under him. The feeling of control, of _power_ made his stomach twist and turn in good ways, and it pushed him higher and higher, and then when Steven rocked back with a loud cry, he fell.

When he could breathe again, he realized that Steven had obeyed him, but each of his breaths was accompanied with a little whine. When he touched Steven's cock, he convulsed, rocking his cock forward into the grip that Tom held. "Not yet, Steven. Gonna make you come so hard, you'll see stars." With that, he pulled out and tugged Steven over until he was lying on his back, his hands fisted in the sheets, that pretty cock hard and pointing straight up at the ceiling. He slid two fingers inside his wet slick opening, said, "You can come now," and dove down on his cock, taking him as deep as he could.

It only took a moment, and then Steven was coming, hard, right down his throat, with a loud cry that sounded like it was ripped right from his chest.

This time, it was Tom who wrapped Steven up in his arms, holding him tight as he shook. "Shhh, shhh, pretty. You're okay. You're okay."

When Steven finally calmed, Tom continued to hold him, though not as tightly. "So, I take it was good for you?"

Steven laughed, his voice sounding like he'd hurt his throat with the loud cry. "You could say that. You were... fantastic. Thank you so much. I... think I needed that."

"Gee, you think?" Tom kissed Steven's hair again. "Tell you what - you ever want that again, you just give me a call. I promise that it's not a hardship for me."

Turning in his arms, Steven looked up at him, looking absurdly young. "How's tonight for you?" Tom's first instinct was to laugh it off, but Steven sounded strangely serious, so Tom did him the courtesy of actually thinking about it. He'd like to, there was no question. He liked Steven, liked him a _lot_ and he thought that they seemed strangely compatible.

On the other hand, he'd just gotten out of a relationship that had blown up in his face. Was he ready to risk that again? Not really.

"I think that it's doable, as long as we agree that it's just fun for now. Is that okay with you?"

Steven nodded, looking completely edible. Tom smiled and ducked his head, kissing him deeply. "Now, if it's okay, I think I'm going to pass out for a while. Then I'm going to need to go home for a while - why don't you plan to come over tonight to my place? We can order Chinese in, make an evening of it."

Nuzzling his face into Tom's chest, Steven nodded. "Sounds good, especially the passing out part."

Tom didn't let go of Steven, just adjusted his arm a little so that it wasn't going to go to sleep on him, and closed his eyes. He was warm and content, and his body buzzed from all the sex. Sleep didn't take long to catch him and drag him under.

The next time he woke, it was to the smell of coffee and faint light coming in around the edge of the curtains. He was alone in the bed, and as he stretched he took a moment to study his surroundings. This room was done in gold tones that set off the floor perfectly. The walls had bits of wood trim, and the effect was rich and warm.

Climbing out of the bed, he sorted out the clothes on the floor till he could find his jeans. Sliding them on, he luxuriated in the just fucked feeling that resounded from every bit of his body. Not bothering with shoes or socks, he wandered out to the living room in search of Steven.

He found him sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee, clad only in boxer briefs. He took a moment to admire his physique before wandering over and kissing him good morning, a chaste peck on the lips that became something a great deal more carnal quickly. When they finally parted, Tom said, "Good morning."

"Mmm, yes. A very good morning," Steven agreed, stretching where he sat. Tom watched him with greedy eyes, a little surprised at how much he wanted to touch that firm body again.

Steven grinned as if he knew exactly what Tom was thinking and for all he knew, he did. When he stood, he deliberately brushed past Tom, skin on skin burning where it touched. "Coffee?"

"God, yes," Tom said, realizing how good the coffee smelled. He sat at the kitchen table where Steven pointed, waiting as he poured a mug full. Turning down cream and sugar, he inhaled the bitter aroma as the cup warmed his hands. Taking a sip, he nearly moaned in bliss.

It was some _good_ coffee.

"You cook. You do art. You make coffee that tastes like _this_. I think I'm going to keep you," Tom said without thinking about the implications of his words.

"Nah, but I'm free to borrow occasionally," Steven chuckled.

Tom drank his coffee in companionable silence, and when it was finished he set the mug back. "I suppose I should get out of your hair for a while. I've got some work I need to do."

"Yeah, me too. I have a client this afternoon, but I should be done by four or so. What time do you want me to come by? That is, if we're still on." Steven was very deliberately not looking at him, and Tom didn't answer, instead standing up and moving into his personal space. With one hand, he tipped up his chin, taking his lips in a deep kiss. His other hand found its way to his chest, searching out a nipple that he pinched lightly.

When he released Steven, Tom was gratified to feel that he was hard again against his hip, and he was making tantalizingly needy noises. "We're still on for tonight. Think about what you want from me, okay? Because I want to give it to you if I can."

Steven clutched at his arm and groaned softly, "You're going to kill me. How am I supposed to go all day like this?"

"The same way I'm going to." Moving carefully, he stepped away from Steven. "Why don't you plan to be at my place around six?" He noticed a note pad and pen on the counter, and pulling it close, he wrote down his address. "I'm only about fifteen minutes away."

Taking a deep breath, Steven blew it out forcefully. "Okay. Six it is. Now I guess I should let you get dressed."

"Yeah, you should." But Tom didn't object when Steven followed him back to the bedroom, or when he sat down on the bed next to him and kissed him deeply before he could slide his shoes on. When he stood up, he grabbed Steven by the shoulders and pressed him back into the wall, nipping and kissing his neck until he stopped struggling, only then lifting his head and kissing him forcefully.

Steven went limp under his hands, surrendering to whatever Tom wanted, and it took everything he had not to push him to his knees and take more. But waiting would make it even better, so he sighed and released Steven. Going back into the living room, he picked up his shirt and slid into it. Another brief kiss, and then he was headed out the door.

Only to stop short when he glanced at his car. Two of the windows were smashed in, and when he walked closer, he saw that all four tires were flat. "Well, shit."

This wasn't something that he could just blow off. Among other things, if it was George, that meant that he'd followed Tom here, and that wasn't cool. Taking out his cell phone, he called the police, and got a promise of an officer there to take a report "shortly," whatever that translated to. Sitting down on the hood of his car, he forced himself not to call George and rip him a new one. This had gone to a whole new level of scary, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.

One thing was for sure, though. He wasn't going to let it mess up what he had building with Steven, even if it just ended up being friends with benefits. He deserved to have some happiness in his life, dammit.

About fifteen minutes passed, and then Steven's front door opened. Steven came out and did a double take when he saw Tom still sitting on the hood. "Everything all - " Then he got a look at the car and folded his lips tight. "I guess everything isn't all right. What happened?"

Tom sighed and pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the car. "Psychotic ex, apparently."

"Yeah, looks like it."

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to back out of tonight. You don't need to deal with my ex-boyfriend."

Steven moved deliberately, getting within reach of Tom and reaching out to touch his face. "I'll be damned if I'll let him keep me away from you."

Tom leaned his face into the caress. "Thanks." Then he realized that Steven was carrying a gym bag, and said, "You've obviously got to get to work. Don't let me keep you. I'm just waiting for the police."

He looked torn, but then Steven glanced at his watch and sighed. "Yeah, I really do have to go. See you tonight." With a quick kiss to Tom's cheek, he was gone.

A few minutes later, the police finally showed up. Tom patiently explained that he hadn't seen who had broken the windows, but that he suspected his ex-boyfriend. It was all he could to do to keep his temper at the look they exchanged at that. He felt like screaming, "Yeah, I'm a fag, but I still have rights, dammit."

But other than that one look, the police were professional, taking a report and a few pictures, and then explaining that there really wasn't anything that they could do without more proof. Tom nodded - he'd known that before he'd even called them. But his insurance wouldn't pay for the repairs that his car was going to need without the police report, and could he get that number, please?

As they drove off, he called his insurance to arrange for the car to be towed to a body shop to have the windows replaced. They were faster than the police, at any rate, and it was only about ten minutes till the tow truck driver was there, and then he finally called a cab to take him home.

Even with everything that had happened, he still needed to get some work done, especially since he had hopes for tonight and tomorrow that didn't include him and the computer. But before he did anything, he _had_ to have a shower. Getting clean was definitely a priority, and shaving was probably a good idea as well.

Then he made himself some lunch and settled down in front of the computer. It only took about two hours to finalize the plans for the building into something that he thought the clients might finally be happy with, and then he shut off the machine, glancing at the clock. He had about ninety minutes before Steven was due, and there was something that he had to do first.

Picking up the phone, he took a deep breath, and then called George. "Hello?"

"George, it might interest you to know that I reported your little temper tantrum to the police this afternoon." George laughing was hardly the reaction he expected.

"And I bet they told you that there wasn't anything they could do about it. Not that I had a temper tantrum or did anything, anyway."

"Right, George. My car just spontaneously had all four tires go flat and two of its windows break."

"Why not? Stranger things have happened."

"I'm only calling - "

"Because you want to come back?"

"Jesus, George!" Tom exploded. "I'm not coming back. I will never come back. Get it through your skull that we're done and over, will you?"

"Baby-"

"I'm not your baby. Now, leave me the hell alone. Don't call me, don't follow me, don't do anything. Get on with your life, because I'm getting on with mine." Tom hung up the phone before George could respond, panting heavily. Then he thought about it, and pulled out his wallet to call Steven.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steven, it's Tom."

"Hey there. I was just thinking about you. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah, we are." Even if the smart thing would be not to, since George was being crazy. Tom wasn't going to give up the chance to see if something good could come of his relationship with Steven. "I was just thinking, though, that you might want to take a taxi over. Given what happened to my car this morning, I don't want to take the chance that it might happen to your car."

"That's... not a bad idea, actually. Should I - should I bring a change of clothes?" Tom could hear the question under that one - whether Steven should be planning to spend the night.

"Yeah, definitely. I may not be able to cook as well as you, but I should be able to come up with something for breakfast."

"Great! See you in about an hour?"

"Sounds like a plan." And Tom hung up the phone, feeling absurdly pleased with himself. He'd dealt with George, arranged to prevent another "accident" from happening to Steven's car, and he was going to get laid _again_. That reminded him. He went upstairs to the bedroom, ignoring the cold spot that seemed to be lingering at the top of the stairs, and went into the closet, finding several silk ties that he never wore anymore. He laid them out on the bed, then thought that maybe they looked a little too obvious there, so he wadded them up and stuck them on the dresser.

He was about as ready as he was going to get for tonight.

Chapter eight

The doorbell rang right at six, and Tom answered the door, only to stop and stare in shock. Steven was there, his hair artfully tousled, wearing a skin tight muscle tee and jeans that looked like they'd been painted on, carrying a gym bag in one hand. For a long moment they just stared at each other, and then Steven said, "So, can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Tom answered, opening the door wide. Steven started to come through, and Tom stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, kissing him deeply. Steven had obviously just brushed his teeth, because he tasted of toothpaste and not much else. Steven dropped his bag, opening his mouth wide for Tom.

Finally, he broke it off, both of them panting, and stood back so that Steven could finish coming in. As soon as the door closed, though, he pushed Steven up against it, kissing him again. Steven went limp in his hands, letting Tom manhandle him around. "Fuck, you taste good," Steven said, when Tom let him up for air.

Tom smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Not for food," said Steven, and with a grin, he pulled Tom up tight against himself, grinding an impressive hard-on into his hip. When Tom dropped his hands to Steven's hips, holding them still, Steven moaned and dropped his head.

"Do you remember what I asked you to do?" Tom asked, and Steven nodded a little breathlessly. "What do you want from me tonight?"

"Anything," was the - expected - answer.

Tom pried his hands off Steven and stepped back. "Not good enough, Steven. For all you know, I'm some sort of massive pervert. I think we'd better eat and cool off, and then talk about what I can do for you."

Steven's hands flexed, but he didn't disagree. His eyes were wild, and his lips were bruised, and Tom thought he'd never seen anyone so hot. He turned away and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out two beers. When Steven came in behind him, he handed one off and sat down at the table. "So, does Chinese sound good for dinner?"

Steven turned one of the chairs so that it was backwards, and sat down, leaning his arms on the back. "Yeah, I could eat Chinese. I love crab rangoon."

Tom picked up a menu off the table and looked. "You're in luck - they serve them. What else are you in the mood for?"

"You."

Tom swallowed hard. He wanted nothing more than to take Steven upstairs and then take him in a whole different way, till they were both sweaty and sated. If Steven didn't back off, that was exactly what was going to happen, too. "Food first," he insisted, handing the menu over.

They ended up agreeing on orange beef and sweet and sour chicken, and he phoned the order in. Taking a sip of his beer, he eyed Steven, who was picking at the bottle's label. "What's wrong?"

Steven didn't look up. "Nothing."

"Uh, okay. Cause from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're pissed at me."

That got Steven's attention, and he looked up. "I'm not pissed at you. I even understand why you're doing what you're doing, but I. Well, I really want to get laid again, with you, and I'm afraid that you're doing this so you can back out."

Tom was flabbergasted. Steven was afraid that _he_ was going to back out? Wasn't going to happen. Standing up, he moved into Steven's space and ran one hand into his hair, tightening it just enough to get a firm grip. He tipped Steven's face back and kissed him hard. "I'm not backing off. I just want us both to have clear ideas of what's going to happen so that neither of us are disappointed. That seems fair to me."

Steven nodded, and Tom felt like he could breathe again. Sitting back down, he said, "Why don't you tell me about your client today? Did you get a good work out with him?"

Over the next few minutes, Tom learned a lot from Steven, starting with the fact that most of his clients were women - not that that was really a surprise - and that he was a surprisingly gifted story teller. By the time he finished with the story of the woman, the towel, and a set of free weights that were never going to be the same again, his ribs hurt with laughing so hard. It hadn't done a damn thing to distract him from how badly he wanted to kiss Steven again, though.

The food finally came, and they served it up on plates and carried it out to the dining room table. Setting his down, he leaned over Steven and waited till he looked up to give him a small kiss. It was supposed to be controlled and innocent, but he soon found that he couldn't keep it that way.

For long moments, they kissed, his hands tangled in Steven's hair. He broke away, panting, only to have Steven pull him back. "Please, Tom, please don't make me wait any longer."

"We really should eat. And we haven't talked about what you want."

"I. Don't. Care." Steven spat, pulling harder.

Wait a minute. Why was he fighting it again?

"Fine. But you have to tell me if I do something you don't like." Tom grabbed Steven's hand and pulled him up, hustling him up the stairs, before he could be tempted to strip him right there. As soon as they got into the bedroom, though, Steven dropped to his knees, reaching for Tom's belt. "Let me - I didn't get to taste you last night. Need to taste you, swallow you down."

His words caused a convulsive shudder to run through his body. God, that sounded good. Getting George to give him head had always been a battle, and he'd finally given up in frustration. But here was Steven, begging for a chance to get his mouth on his cock. "Yeah, please, suck me," he said, unbuckling his pants and shoving them down. Steven waited impatiently till his cock was bared, and then there was a hot, wet mouth circling his cock.

Tom groaned, burying his hands in Steven's fiery hair. He cautiously rocked his hips, and Steven moaned. That was all the encouragement he needed to start fucking Steven's mouth, hard and fast. This wasn't going to take long, which was amazing. But it really wasn't what he wanted, and he was old enough to have some control. Somehow, he managed to pull himself back from the brink, whimpering. And when he pulled his cock out of Steven's mouth, Steven whimpered as well, chasing after the head of his cock with his sweet mouth.

"Shhh, pretty. Don't worry - you'll get a chance to taste. But don't you think we should at least get naked?" Steven looked up blankly, then started stripping off his clothes without even getting off his knees. Tom did as well, taking his time and watching Steven, who was now naked and kneeling with his hands crossed behind his back. "You've done this before, haven't you, pretty?"

Steven nodded. "Yes. Have you?"

"A few times and I have some ideas of what I'd like to do you. Is it okay if I just play for a little while?"

The muscles in Steven's shoulders tensed and then relaxed. "If that's what you want."

Tom crouched down in front of him, tipping his head up so that their eyes met. "It's what we both want, or this won't be any fun."

"I just... I want to pleasure you. Want to taste you."

"Do you want to obey me, let me take control?" Steven ducked his head again, and Tom forced it back up. "Don't hide, pretty. Look me in the face and tell me what you want."

"Yes." It was a whisper, and from the way his face colored, it was a truth that Steven didn't want to admit. Tom kissed him in reward, loving the way that Steven melted against him, going limp and willing under his hands. Tom took control, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue into Steven's mouth. He tasted spicy and sweet, and Tom groaned.

Letting him go, finally, he stood up, pulling Steven with him. "Go, lie down on the bed, on your back." Steven hurried to do as he was told, spreading himself out wide on the bed, and Tom stood there for a minute, just looking at him. "God, you're gorgeous," he said, climbing up on the bed next to him and kneeling there, still just looking.

Steven's breath caught in his throat, and he mutely arched his back, offering his body up to Tom. Tom touched his face with light fingers, and then slowly dragged them down over his neck and chest to one of his nipples. "Do you like it when these are played with?"

Nodding eagerly, Steven said, "Yes. I love it, feel it all the way down..." Tom smiled and pinched it a little, just enough to get it to perk up. Then he leaned over and sucked the other into his mouth, licking and tonguing it, until Steven was panting. So far, everything he'd done had been gentle - time to try for a little more force. Slowly and deliberate, he bit down on the tip of the nipple in his mouth, pulling back at the same time so that he stretched Steven's nipple away from his chest.

Steven cried out, his voice ragged, "Oh, oh, yeah." Tom would have smiled, but instead he bit down a little harder, until Steven shifted beneath him - towards Tom, not away, he noticed. Still. He released the abused bit of flesh and knelt up.

"Hold still, Steven. You have to hold still, pretty." He was panting hard, eyes wild, but still Steven managed to nod. Tom waited a moment more to see if he was going to say anything, but instead he just took two fistfuls of the bedding, as if to brace himself, and nodded again.

This time, Tom took his whole nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. When Steven started to whimper, he began to bite down, this time letting the bite deepen until he knew that he had to be marking Steven's chest. Steven was making all sorts of noise, but he didn't move, and when Tom released the abused nub, he nuzzled his chest in reward. "Is that what you wanted, pretty?"

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Steven panted, his entire body loose and limp on the bed. "Hurts so fucking good."

Tom grinned. It was a long time since these particular muscles had been stretched, because George would rather have died than give up that much control, but it wasn't something you forgot. And Tom had always been good at playing games. Turning his attention back to Steven, he ran his fingers over the bitten nipple, causing Steven to hiss. "Too much?"

"No," Steven said, bending up into the touch. "I can take more."

"If you're sure," Tom said, then twisted the nipple hard, until Steven whimpered and arched his back. He didn't give Steven a chance to say anything before he bent down and took it back into his mouth, tonguing it gently.

By the time he was finished torturing Steven's nipple, it was swollen, surrounded by a neat red bite mark. Steven was whimpering non stop, his skin slick with a fine coat of sweat. When Tom's fingers lightly traced a pattern over and around the tormented bit of flesh, Steven's whimpering got deeper. "Please don't stop, not now," he gasped out.

"Not going to stop, pretty. Just trying to decide what I'm going to do next." Steven's eyes fluttered open at that and he mutely lifted his hips, attracting Tom's attention to his hard cock. "You should be so lucky. It's going to be a long time before I get to that, but it'll be worth waiting for. Trust me?"

Steven nodded, and dropped his hips back down. He took a deep breath, and as he let it out, the last bits of tension flowed out of his muscles. Tom kissed him in reward, his fingers seeking out the other nipple. This time he was gentle, just a soft brush across the tip, but Steven reacted as if he'd been bitten, jerking before he came to a shuddering stillness.

Tom didn't pause, tracing his fingers down over Steven's quivering stomach, brushing along one hip, tracing a finger tip down his inner thigh. When he touched his balls, Steven started to whimper again, begging under his breath. "Oh please, please, please..."

"Not yet, pretty. Hold it for me. Gonna make you come with my cock inside you." Tom gathered his balls into the palm of his hand, tightening slightly. Steven froze, only the rough movement of his chest showing how far gone he was. Tom squeezed a little tighter, and a fresh layer of sweat broke out over Steven, and he mewled. "Something you want, pretty?"

"Oh, please fuck me? I don't even need to come - just need to have your cock inside of me." Steven certainly seemed sincere in his wish to have Tom fuck him, and his cock gave a surge at that. He definitely wanted to be inside Steven, and now, but the wait would make it all the sweeter.

"Not yet, pretty, but soon." His fingers trailed a path of fire up Steven's body, up to his mouth. "Open up and suck for me." Steven immediately opened his mouth and sucked in his fingers, licking and nipping at them, laving between them with his tongue, getting them thoroughly wet. Tom let his eyes roll back as he luxuriated in the feel, then forced himself to pull his fingers out of that hot wet cave and said, "Spread your legs, pretty. Going to play with your hole now."

Eagerly, Steven stretched his legs wide, tipping up his hips so that Tom had easy access. Sliding his middle finger into his opening, he groaned at the sensation of being taken in. He wanted to fuck, wanted it badly, but not yet. Dear god, not yet.

Slowly fingering Steven, he watched his face. Every bit of emotion crossed that expressive face, and right now he was lost in lust and wanting. His lips kept forming the pieces of words, but sound never made it out. Instead, he clutched at the blanket and gasped and panted. Tom pulled his finger out, and before Steven could say more than "No -" he slid back with two. "You love this, don't you? Love the attention being paid to your hole? Want more?"

"Yes - " Steven gasped.

"You love being fucked. Love taking a big cock deep in your ass. I bet that you'd love to be fisted, wouldn't you? Tie you up and slowly stretch you out till you're so full you can't stand it." _That_ got a reaction - Steven started to twist and turn on the bed, nodding even as he moved. "I'd love to watch you take my fist. I bet you'd be beautiful like that."

Tom pulled his fingers out of Steven's ass, earning himself a moan and a strangled, "No."

"Don't worry, we're not done. Just getting the lube, pretty." He reached out a long arm and opened the nightstand, pulling out the tube and a condom. As soon as Steven saw what he was doing, he moaned, and spread his legs impossibly wide, and when Tom ripped open the condom, he opened his mouth and started to beg. Tom hushed him with a finger to his lips, a finger that Steven licked and sucked into his mouth.

Tom opened the tube and squeezed a sizable amount right on his cock, gasping as the cool gel brought him back from the brink. When his cock was slick, he closed the tube and set it aside. "Turn over, Steven. Want to spank you as I fuck you."

Steven scurried to obey, grace gone in a haze of lust. Tom pressed down on his shoulders even as he lined up his cock with the tight hole, and as he gently pushed inside, he landed a stinging slap to one cheek. It left an immediate red hand print, vivid and dark against Steven's fair skin, and Tom groaned. He was hot and tight inside, and it felt so good, like he was coming home even as he slid inside.

The only way he was going to keep from coming right away was to distract himself, and so he focused on spanking that sweet ass, making sure that the pink color was evenly distributed over the cheeks and his thighs. When Tom landed a particularly hard hit on the spot where thigh became buttock, Steven jumped and whined deep in his throat, tightening his ass convulsively around Tom's cock even as he did so. Tom groaned. "Hurts, pretty?"

Panting, it took Steven a moment to answer. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, but is it _goodwhat_.

Various sounds coming from the living room indicated that they were going at it again. "Rabbits," Chester said to himself. "They're just a couple of rabbits."

Chapter nine

Kissing on the couch led to naughty touches that burned through Tom, leaving him gasping and hard. Steven twisted around his lap and pushed him back against the couch. Tom went willingly, guessing what Steven had in mind. He wasn't disappointed when Steven slid to his knees on the floor and took his cock into his mouth.

Steven's tongue was wide and wet as he licked a stripe up the side of Tom's cock, and then he sucked the head into his mouth, tonguing the slit. Tom buried his hands in Steven's hair, not making any effort to control what he was doing, just resting them there. "Oh, your mouth is so good," he sighed.

Slowly, Steven inched his way down Tom's dick, taking more of it on every down stroke, till he could feel the head of his cock pressing against the back of Steven's throat. The heat and the pressure were fantastic, and Tom whimpered softly. There wasn't any urgency, though, just a smooth crest of pleasure that Tom could ride like a wave.

He closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch, losing himself in the easy sensuality of what Steven was doing. The way that he twisted his tongue and the bit of teeth that Tom could feel periodically were so good that they were sinful. With a soft moan, he tightened his hands in Steven's hair, tugging him back and off.

This time, Steven didn't fight him in the least, just stayed on his knees, swaying drunkenly. His eyes were slits, and his lips swollen and wet, and Tom thought that he was just an invitation waiting. Bending carefully, he kissed Steven softly. "Do you want to get me off down here, or would you rather go back upstairs? I was thinking that I might tie you to the bed if you're interested?"

Steven moaned. "God, yes."

"You're so gorgeous like this, pretty. Gonna tie you up and play with you all over. But first, you have to open your eyes." Steven gave a soft sigh, and his eyes slowly slid open, but Tom doubted he was seeing anything of substance.

He slid off the couch and helped Steven to his feet, guiding him up the stairs and back to the bedroom. The bed was wrecked, so he just pulled the covers down and away, leaving only the sheet. "Lie down, pretty, spread eagled for me."

Steven did as he was told, moving as though he was fighting his way through molasses, limbs heavy and dragging. Tom smiled, recognizing the need. Steven was lost in his own head right now. Tom was determined to keep him there.

Picking up the silk ties off the dresser, he carefully bound Steven's hands to the bedposts, and then his feet to the footboard. "Pull on this," he said, testing to make sure that the knot wasn't going to become unbearably tight or pull loose. As soon as he was certain, he climbed on the bed, taking Steven's mouth in a deep, searing kiss.

Steven hadn't exactly been quiet earlier, but the amount of noise he made now was surprising. He moaned loudly as he was kissed, and when Tom's fingers sought out his swollen nipple, he yelped. Concerned, Tom stopped. "Okay?"

"So _very_ okay," Steven panted, wrists twisting in the silk. "I'll tell you if it isn't, please?"

Tom studied his face for a moment. Steven seemed sincere, seemed racked with pleasure, and Tom nodded. This time, his fingers went to the other nipple and twisted it, hard. This time it was practically a howl, and Tom realized that being tied had given Steven the freedom to make as much noise as he wanted. Oh, this was going to be good.

He decided that with that freedom came some penalties, and slid his hands down Steven's body, coming to a rest on his inner thighs, that were spread wide. The first slap came as a surprise to Steven, who twisted and shouted. Tom waited till he calmed, then deliberately lifted his hand high enough for Steven to see. Steven studied him for a moment, then closed his eyes and nodded.

Tom spanked his inner thighs hard, alternating blows with soft touches, till Steven was pushing up into each blow, his body practically bouncing in place. He was crying out with every slap of skin on skin, and as the whimpering became more pronounced, Tom increased the force. "Gonna make sure you can't close your legs, pretty. You're gonna want to keep them spread all the time, open for me to play with you."

Steven whimpered and whined and tried to spread his legs wider, his whole body showing off his submission. When the skin was red and hot from his knees to his balls, he finally stopped, running a soothing hand over the heated skin. "Shhh, good boy. Such a good boy, pretty."

Tracing his fingers back from Steven's balls to his ass, he watched as he hissed and flinched, a look of discomfort on his face. "Sore?"

"A little," Steven acknowledged, only to add hurriedly, "Not too sore for you to play with," when Tom pulled his fingers back.

"There are other things we can do and besides, you're all tied up and there's nothing you can do about it anyway."

Steven squirmed in his bonds, but didn't argue. Tom scooted down so he could get his mouth on Steven's balls and started licking them gently. When Steven moaned and pulled on the ties, he sucked one into his mouth, loving the shout that that got. He repeated the action on his other ball, and had to hold Steven down by the hips to keep him from bucking him off. He knew he was probably leaving bruises on his hips but neither of them particularly cared.

When he finally released Steven's balls, he was sobbing with every breath, begging quietly. Wrapping one hand around his dick, he squeezed. Steven started to shake, and Tom got an idea. Rolling off the bed, he went to the nightstand, pulling out a condom and the lube. Steven's eyes lit up, and he started to beg to get fucked again, but that wasn't Tom had in mind. Instead, he rolled the condom down Steven's dick, smiling at the way his eyes got so wide.

Slicking up two fingers, he leaned forward and slid them into his own ass, turning and twisting them as best he could, trying to slick and loosen himself up. Then he applied more lube to Steven's cock. "Hold still, pretty, or I'll stop." Steven instantly froze, breaths coming in harsh pants, as Tom slowly sat down on his cock. When he started to ride, Steven started to growl, but he didn't move.

"Good boy, pretty. You can come whenever you want, but don't move." He didn't want to come just yet, and if Steven did so much as breathe funny, he was going to go off like a shot. Instead, he focused on riding him slow and deep. "So good, so hard."

Steven seemed like he could barely breathe, muscles standing out in his arms where he was pulling on the ties binding his wrists. But he didn't move, and he didn't move, and then he screamed, hips snapping up once, twice, three times, and came so hard that he nearly passed out.

Tom gripped the base of his cock, and managed to barely hold off his own orgasm. When Steven's eyes fluttered open, he knelt up, letting his cock slip from his ass, and then slowly crawled up over his body till his cock was inches from Steven's face. "I'm going to come on you. Close your eyes, pretty." A truly blissed out look crossed Steven's face, and he did as he was told. Tom worked his cock for a minute, two, and then he was shooting all over Steven's face. Steven licked his lips and a happy sigh let Tom know that he hadn't crossed a line.

He wanted nothing more than to collapse next to Steven and go to sleep, but he couldn't do that just yet. Instead, he got a cloth to wipe his face clean, and untied his wrists and ankles. And only then did he lie down next to Steven and wrap him up in his arms, rocking him closely as he shook and shivered and finally, slept.

Chapter ten

Sunday morning, and Tom was pleasantly sore from all the sex he'd had in the last two days. Steven was still sound asleep, having kicked off the blankets at some point in the night, and Tom leaned his head on his hand and studied his body. Small marks and bruises decorated his skin, and Tom let one hand hover over one of the darker ones on his hip. He could feel the heat of Steven's skin, and it felt good.

So much of the urgency of the last two days had died down, leaving a pleasant buzz of satiation crawling through his body. He wasn't that young any more, but his dick had certainly been acting like he was still eighteen.

Leaving Steven to sleep, he crawled out of the bed. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he headed downstairs. He'd promised Steven breakfast, and after all the calories that they'd burned in the last two days, they certainly needed it. Pulling out eggs, he poked around the refrigerator a bit, and found ingredients for a couple of omelets, but he was going to need to hit the grocery store soon.

As he chopped mushrooms and ham, he mused about what had happened over the last few days. It had certainly been a roller coaster, but if he could get George to back off, things were good. He didn't think that he and Steven were ready to have a relationship or anything, but they certainly seemed compatible and the sex was _really_ good.

He had to set the knife down as he thought about the sex. Steven was so good in bed, but last night, when he'd tied him to the bed with his silk ties, he'd turned into a wildcat. It had been a long time since he'd had a partner so in tune with those parts of him that he normally kept buried.

Still musing, he picked up the knife again. A noise caught his attention, and he turned to see George standing at the entrance of the kitchen. "How the hell did you get in here?"

In answer, George held up his keys. "You gave me the key a long time ago, remember? Where's the slut?"

For a moment, but only a moment, Tom felt guilty. George looked even worse, if that was possible. Plus, he really had gone right from George to sleeping with Steven. But with how good things were with Steven, he saw how bad they'd been with George.

Tom fought to keep his voice steady. "He's not a slut, and it's none of your business what I do with who, George. Now, give me the key and get out of my house. You weren't invited and you're not wanted here."

"He's in bed with another man's boyfriend. He's not innocent in this," George began, but Tom hurried to cut him off, hoping not to wake Steven up.

"I'm not your boyfriend anymore. You proved that when you hit me. And any way, I thought I was a lousy lay? Why would you still want me?"

George moved closer, grabbing Tom by the hair. "You're mine. You'll always be mine, and the sooner you accept that and come back, the easier that'll be."

He hadn't forgotten the knife he was holding in his hand, and he brought it up clumsily, pointing it at George. He had to ignore the pinpricks of pain that stung his eyes and the shudder of cold that ran down his back. "Let me go. Now."

George laughed, only to stop when someone cleared their throat at the entrance of the kitchen. "Is everything okay in here?" Steven asked. He was just wearing his jeans, and looked anxiously from one man to the other.

Instantly releasing his hair, George took two steps away. "Everything is fine. But if you don't mind, we're having a personal conversation."

With the two of them standing in such close proximity, Tom realized how much bigger George was - though he'd wager money that Steven was both stronger and in better shape. "No, we actually aren't. George was just leaving." George shot him a look of intense anger, and for a moment Tom shivered at the malice in his eyes, but he held firm. "And the locks are going to be changed this afternoon, so don't try to get in here again."

"I know when I'm not wanted, and you two are obviously busy," he sneered, looking Steven's state of undress over. "Wouldn't want to interfere." As Tom followed George to the door, intending to make sure he left, he was surprised by the rush of cold air brushing past him. George turned as he opened the door. "I'll be back, and when you finally come crawling back, you'll regret this."

Tom sighed. "I keep telling you and keep telling you. There is no longer any us. There will never be an us again. Do us both a favor and go get laid, would you?"

"Looks like you're doing that for both of us. Enjoy your boytoy, Tom, while you've got him. I'm sure you won't be able to keep his interest for long." With that, George opened the door and left, leaving Tom leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath. He felt like he'd be hit in the stomach, and as it twisted, he tried hard not to throw up.

When he finally had his breathing under control again, he went back into the kitchen. Steven was still there, cutting ham into cubes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Here - let me do that," he said, taking the knife away from Steven. "I told you I'd cook breakfast."

Surrendering the knife, Steven went to the table and swung out one of the chairs, sitting down on it gingerly, folding his arms along the back. "So I take it that that was the psychotic ex?"

"Yeah. Can't get it through his head that we're over. Apparently he thinks if he harasses me enough, I'll come back to him, but that isn't going to happen. Ever." Tom savagely chopped the ham, taking pleasure at the way the knife sliced through the meat.

"Yeah, he seems to be having an issue all right. You okay? He had your hair in a pretty fierce grip, there." Steven stood back up and took the knife out of his hand, gently turning him at the same time so that he'd look at him. "I think that's cut fine enough."

Tom let himself be turned. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."

"You should call the police. That was trespassing - I'm sure they could arrest him for that."

"Nah. I'm angry with him for letting himself in, and I'll definitely be calling a locksmith this afternoon, but I don't really want him arrested. He's obviously having a hard time with breaking up, harder than I am, and I don't want him to lose his career over this." Tom wrapped his arms around Steven and tugged him in close, enjoying the feel of his chest against Steven's. "How are you this morning? I'm surprised you're out of bed after last night."

"I wouldn't have been, but your bedroom got really cold, and I figured I'd better make sure that you weren't turning up the AC in an effort to make me get out." Steven held Tom tightly. "And then I find some big guy holding you up by your hair, which I have to admit that I didn't like much."

"I didn't like it much either, but he's gone now, and I really should finish making breakfast." Tom forced himself to let go - he was enjoying being held far too much to do it willingly - and tried to turn back around.

"Hey, breakfast can wait. I'm sure that you're upset."

"Not really, no. More like furious than upset. But it'll all be good eventually. He just really really needs to get laid by someone who isn't me." Steven finally let go, and Tom turned his attention to breaking eggs into a bowl. "Why don't you sit down - breakfast will be done in a minute.

Steven put his hands on Tom's hips and hooked his chin over Tom's shoulder. "I'd rather stay right here. You're _warm_."

Tom felt his skin flush at that, but he didn't argue. Instead, he busied his hands in making the omelets. Soon enough, they were finished, and Steven let go of him so that he could get down a couple of plates. Putting the loaded plates on the table, he poured coffee for them both and settled into one of the chairs, watching with amused eyes as Steven gingerly sat down.

Two bites later, his discomfort was apparently forgotten. "Mmm, this is good. You lied to me - said you couldn't cook!"

"This isn't really cooking. From what I saw, you're the better cook of the two of us," Tom chuckled and took another bite.

They ate quietly, and once they were both finished, Tom took the plates and stacked them in the sink. Then he turned to face Steven, leaning back against the sink. For his part, Steven looked up at Tom, a smirk on his face. "Sexed out yet?"

"Not hardly," Tom replied. "But I wasn't the one tied up till all hours of the morning. How are you feeling?"

Steven rubbed his wrists, attracting Tom's attention to the faint red marks there. "I'm excellent," he said. Tom crossed the kitchen and took Steven's hand, checking to make sure that he hadn't been bruised. Steven allowed it for a moment, then pulled his hand back. "Seriously, I'm fine. A little tender in places, but it's a good hurt. I could - "

Just then, a cold draft moved through the room, causing them both to shudder, and Steven shut his mouth with a snap. "Did you feel that?"

"Yeah. That's what got me out of bed this morning. Weird - you must have drafty windows or something."

Tom shook his head. "I don't think so. This is new and I haven't replaced my windows or anything. I wonder - " There was the sound of shattering glass, and both Steven and Tom ducked. When Tom stood back up, a rock was lying where he'd been standing a moment earlier. "God _damn_ him," he exclaimed. "When is he going to get the message that we're over?"

Steven looked a little sick. "This isn't good, Tom. First your car, and now your house? He's escalating. You're going to have to do something or he's going to go out of control."

"I think he already is, but you're right. Do you think... No, I think you should probably go home. I'm going to have to get the window fixed, and the locks changed, and then there's a phone call I should make." Tom felt physically sick at getting Jennifer involved, but he didn't know what else to do. Maybe Jennifer would be able to talk some sense into George, since obviously he wasn't succeeding.

Steven gave a short, jerky nod, and Tom felt even worse. Damn the man anyway, because Steven looked ready to bolt like a skittish horse, and he really wanted to see where else their relationship could go. He stood up and started to walk out of the kitchen, and Tom watched him go, carefully keeping his expression blank. Then Steven stopped suddenly, and turned back, and Tom felt something loosen in his stomach. "He's not scaring me off, Tom. I'll still be around. The only reason I'm agreeing to leave now is because you seem to have some sort of plan." Then he turned and left, and Tom could hear him climbing the stairs.

He worked on cleaning up the shattered glass while Steven showered and dressed, and then he called a cab so that Steven could go home. As he closed the door behind him, he sighed. Then he went to get the phone book and start making calls.

Chapter eleven

He'd managed to find a locksmith on an immediate basis, but finding someone to take care of the window was going to take longer, and he resigned himself to taking Monday off. Then he picked up the phone again, trying to mentally prepare the words he needed for Jennifer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Susan. Is Jennifer there?"

"Tom? Sure, is everything all right?"

"No, not really. I need Jennifer's help."

"Um, okay." There were the sounds of rustling and the phone being put down, then words too soft for Tom to hear. Then Jennifer picked up the phone.

"Tom? What's wrong?"

"I need you to talk to George, Jennifer. He's gone too far, and I need him to back off."

"What happened?"

"He's broken the windows in my car, he broke into my house, and he just threw a rock through my kitchen window. He nearly hit me." Tom was breathing hard, memories of that rock flying through his window twisting him all up. If he hadn't walked over to examine Steven's wrists, he would have been hit by that rock.

"What? Are you sure, Tom? That doesn't sound like something he'd do."

"I'm sure. He seems convinced that if he harasses me enough, I'll come back, and that's not going to happen."

"I'll talk to him, Tom, for all the good it will do."

"That's all I can ask for, Jennifer. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and studied the hole that had been his kitchen window. Dammit. He couldn't just leave it open like that. Checking the time, he saw that he had a couple of hours before the locksmith would get there, so he went to shower and dress. Driving to the local lumbar yard, he bought a piece of plywood, and paid to have it cut down to the right size.

Taking it home, he put it in place over the broken window, and then settled in to wait for the locksmith. He kept getting cold shudders running down his spine, and did his best to ignore them, trying to lose himself in his book, but it was slow going.

After the locksmith had come and gone, he debated getting some work done, but he couldn't bring himself to go into the office. He had to get out of the house for a while. Calling a cab, he went to the bar.

"Hi, Tom."

"Jamie. Don't you ever get any time off?"

Jamie smiled, hands busy with a glass and a towel. "Nah, don't need time off when I have you people to keep me entertained. What can I get you?"

"Just a beer." Jamie grinned and handed it over, and Tom took it to one of the booths, sitting down and staring into the glass like it would contain the answer to life's questions. He'd been there long enough that the beer felt warm when someone slid into the booth next to him. Looking up, he found Susan looking at him.

"Thought I'd find you here," she said.

"Hi. Yeah, needed to get out of the house for while. But what are you doing here? Isn't Sunday your day to spend with Jennifer?"

"When I left the house, she was on the phone, yelling at George. Had been for a while, and it didn't sound like it was going to stop any time soon. Want to talk about it?" Susan took his hand in one of hers.

"Nah, I'm just - "

"Am I interrupting?" Tom looked up, shocked, to see Steven standing there, holding a beer and looking a little nervous.

"No, of course not. Susan, Steven. Steven, this is my best friend, Susan."

Susan smiled. "Why don't you sit down, Steven. Booth's plenty big enough for all three of us."

Looking a little like he expected to get summarily executed, Steven did so. "So, everything okay, Tom? Did you find someone to replace the window?"

Susan lifted an eyebrow at Tom, and he felt himself flush. "Uh, yeah, Steven was sort of there when the window got broken." Susan's other eyebrow went up, and her mouth formed a silent "Oh," of surprise.

"Yeah, it was a bit startling," Steven said. He smiled at Susan. "Almost as startling as finding George in Tom's kitchen this morning. I'm trying to talk him into calling the police."

Looking at Tom, she exclaimed, "You haven't called the police yet? What is it going to take?"

"I don't want to mess up his career, Susan. He's just a little off balance, and no one's been hurt."

"Yet," Susan and Steven said together, then looked at each other. Susan giggled, and Steven grinned widely. Then Steven continued, "Like I said this morning, Tom, he's escalating. I like you and don't want to see you get hurt by that son of a bitch."

"Hey, I'm starting to feel a little out numbered here." Tom slid out of the booth and stood up. "I think it's time to go get another beer." He made his way over to pick up the beer from the bar, and stood there for a moment sipping at it, trying to get his temper under control. He knew that Susan just wanted him safe, and Steven was probably right, but it didn't help the feeling of being ganged up on.

When he walked back up to the table finally, he heard "- you're an artist? Tom says you're really good."

Steven blushed appealingly, and Tom had to fight off the urge to kiss him till he was flushed for another reason. "Um, yeah. I like to think I'm not bad, anyway. It's mostly experimental, though. Not ready to do a show or anything like that."

"That's not what Tom says. I'd love to see them some time."

When Steven started to stammer his way through an excuse not to show them to Susan, Tom interrupted. "Hey, cut that out. They're beautiful, and I think that you should let her see them. Maybe you could take her there this afternoon?"

Steven looked up at him from under his lashes. "Only if you're going to come with her."

Tom thought about saying no, about the fact that he was going to have to take tomorrow off and therefore should stay home and get some work done, but his mouth opened itself and said, "Of course." Which was how he found himself sitting in the front seat of Steven's Prius, talking about nothing as they led the way to Steven's condo, Susan following in her own car.

He didn't make any effort to touch Steven, afraid that if he started he'd be unable to stop. Instead, they made insipid small talk as they drove, until Steven stopped at a light and looked over. "What's wrong?"

The feeling that he'd been trying to avoid thinking about crashed through him. "Just - we're spending a lot of time together. It's just a little weird."

"Do you not want to do this? I could take you home." But the expression on Steven's face indicated he didn't want that, and truth be told, neither did Tom. And there was the little voice that seemed to be whispering in his ear for him to keep this one, that he was good.

"Nah. I really want Susan to see your artwork. We can just play it by ear after that."

Steven put the car back in gear and started to drive again. "I'd like it if you stayed again. We don't have to play, but I kinda like sleeping with you in my arms."

Tom moved uncomfortably. "It's not that I don't like it too- I do! But don't you think we're moving a bit fast?"

"I'm not asking you to move in with me, Tom. Just... think about staying the night, okay? At least until George backs off."

Then they were there, and Tom didn't have to say anything at all. He was looking forward to seeing Susan's reaction to Steven's artwork, and he used that to push away what Steven had been saying. Susan's reaction to Steven's condo was everything that Tom's had been - staring every where with wide eyes, and as they went into Steven's studio, she gaped at the work. "Oh, this is beautiful!"

She moved from painting to painting, looking at each one carefully before moving on to the next. Steven was beside her, talking excitedly about his work. When they finally got to Tom's favorite - the male torso - she stood there for a long time, looking. Then she turned to Steven. "Was this painted from a model?"

"No - just my own imagination. It showed up in my dreams one night, and wouldn't leave me alone till I'd painted it."

She nodded and looked back at the painting for a long moment. For some reason, Tom held his breath as she looked. Then she turned and looked at Tom. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" he laughed. "No! I'm not stripping for you!"

"Oh, hush, sweetie, and just do it. I want to see something."

Blushing so hard he was sure that he was going to spontaneously combust, Tom gave up and did as he was told, stripping off his shirt and standing there feeling awkward and uncomfortable. That only got worse, when Susan came over and started to fold his arms, twisting his torso slightly. "Do you see this, Steven?"

Instead of arguing, Steven looked thoughtful. Then he came over and turned Tom a little more. "Yeah, I do." Releasing his grip on Tom's shoulder, he looked shocked. "You could have modeled for that painting."

"No, I couldn't have. I'm too hairy for that picture."

"It's not perfect, but the muscle definition, the skin tone, all of it. You look just like him."

Now Steven and Susan were both looking spooked, and Tom felt a slow chill crawl its way down his spine. "How could you have painted this of me - I mean, it was before we ever met, right?"

"It's been done for months, Tom. And I don't know how I could have painted you before I met you. It makes no sense!" Steven wrapped his arms around himself, and a cold draft filled the room, making all three of them shudder.

Susan was backing out of the room. "It's been lovely," she said, her voice high and tight, "but I need to get home to Jennifer. See if she's done ripping George a new one yet." With that, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Tom was right behind her. "Susan, wait - "

"I can't, Tom. This is just too weird for me. I need to think for a bit, okay? I'll, uh, I'll call you. Maybe I can see if I can get my friend to agree to do a show for Steven. You're right, he's too good not to do a show."

"Susan," he said brokenly. Susan was his best friend. He couldn't lose her to some weird coincidence.

"It'll be fine, Tom. Just let me go home for now, and we'll talk later this week, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Susan fled, the door opening and then shutting again so fast that he barely saw it. He was still cold, and he shivered, only to feel scorched when Steven wound himself around Tom's back.

"She'll be okay, Tom. Just give her some time," Steven whispered in his ear.

With a harsh cry, Tom turned, wrapping his arms around Steven and clinging tightly. Steven whispered soothing things into Tom's ear, rubbing large hands over his back until he calmed. Finally, embarrassed, Tom pulled back, eyes burning. "How are you so calm about this?"

Steven shrugged. "I don't know. But haven't you felt it? There's something uncanny between the two of us. How we met, how you've known what I wanted, how willing I've been to go along with it? This just seems like one more thing to accept, and it's not all that difficult."

Tom stared at Steven for a long moment, until his face started to heat beneath Tom's gaze. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I try," Steven said, laughing, but he was bright red, matching his hair. "So, let's see what we can do to make you feel better, shall we?"

Still feeling shocked and breathless, Tom went along quietly enough as Steven led him to the bedroom. When Steven started to unbutton his shirt, Tom tried to help, only to have his hands brushed away. "Let me do this." Only when Tom was naked did Steven release him, and then it was only so he could sit on the bed and watch as Steven stripped himself quickly. Before he could say anything, Steven had sunk to his knees in front of the bed. He didn't ask, just leaning forward and softly sucking on the head of Tom's cock.

Tom whimpered and ran his hands into Steven's hair, not guiding or controlling, just holding. He had no desire to control this - he just wanted to let Steven do what he wanted. What Steven wanted, apparently, was to just suck him soft and wet, until Tom was gasping and grabbing at the sheets in an effort not to thrust into that hot, willing, mouth.

He pulled back just enough to say, "It's okay," before taking him deep. With another harsh cry, Tom jerked up, hips pumping. It didn't take long before he was coming. Compared to the orgasms of the past few days, this one was gentle and relaxing, and he fell backwards on the bed, bonelessly.

Steven climbed up on the bed, and Tom could feel his erection pressing against his hip like a brand. He tried to turn over, only to have Steven stop him with a firm hand on his chest. "You don't need to do anything but sleep."

He wanted to argue, wanted to insist on parity, but he was practically asleep already. With Steven still whispering in his ear, he fell asleep.

Chester Interlude Three

Chester sat down on Steven's couch, sighing. He knew that there was something about Steven that he liked, and the painting just confirmed things for him. It sure seemed like Steven was the man meant for his great grandson. Now to just make Tom see that.

He wasn't sure how to start, because Tom seemed particularly oblivious to what he had to say, lately. He'd say that it had something to do with all the sex rotting his brain, but he knew that Tom had always ignored what he said. If he didn't, he'd never have stayed with George for so long.

Oh, well. Things were on a better track now. He was sorry that Susan had been so upset by the painting, even if he felt her reaction was more than a little overreaction. Steven had taken it in his stride - why couldn't Susan do the same?

Steven. Now that was a good man. He'd taken Susan's revelation relatively calmly, and immediately put aside his own feelings to help Tom over his. Chester felt that Tom was more upset by Susan than by the idea that Steven had painted his body without ever seeing it before, but what could you expect? Tom had always been a sensitive boy, and Chester wouldn't want to change that for anything.

Drifting back to the bedroom, he studied the two boys where they slept. They certainly looked more comfortable than George had ever looked holding Tom. Not that he'd have held Tom when he was sleeping - always eager to put some distance between the two of them, that one.

Speaking of George, Chester decided it was time to make sure that he wasn't anywhere around. Poking around the parking showed no sign of his car, and there wasn't any sign of him on the street, but Chester didn't give up that easy. He continued to walk up and down outside of Steven's condo for hours, until he was satisfied that George wasn't there. Maybe that Jennifer girl's phone call to him had actually gotten through where Tom had failed.

Going back inside, he checked on them again, finding Tom had cuddled up even closer in his sleep, and Chester couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. He just wanted Tom happy, that was all.

Leaving the boys to sleep it off, he moved the studio. There he studied the paintings, wondering about one of the landscapes. It certainly seemed familiar. It was strange, but he could swear that it looked like his father's farm when he was a boy. Except there was something missing - the old tire swing that had hung over the stream when he was a kid.

He was tempted to add it, but he wasn't sure that his artistic skills were as good as Steven's. Maybe he should whisper a little something in his ear.

Chapter twelve

When Tom woke and stretched, he was alone in the bed. For a minute he was disoriented, but then he remembered. Showing Steven's art to Susan, the discovery that he could have modeled for one of the paintings. Her getting upset over it and leaving. Steven blowing him and refusing to allow him to reciprocate. Falling asleep in Steven's arms, which were far too comfortable and comforting for someone who was just supposed to be a fuck buddy.

Stretching, he put it out of his mind and went looking for his host. He pulled on his jeans, and went to the kitchen, but there was no Steven, just more of that sinfully good coffee. Pouring himself a cup, he took a minute to lean against the counter and take several long, hot sips, savoring the bitter taste. Still holding the mug, he looked in the living room, but it was dark and quiet.

Backtracking towards the bedroom, he found the studio door mostly shut. Knocking softly, he wasn't really surprised to hear a muffled, "Come in," from inside. Pushing the door open, he found Steven in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing in front of one of the finished paintings, contemplating it. "Good morning," he said, even as he lifted it down off the wall and carried it over to the easel.

"Morning," he said, leaning against the doorway, not saying anything else as Steven assembled paints and brushes and attacked the canvas with a single minded sort of focus. Under his skillful hands, a tire swing took shape, hanging over the small stream in the picture. Steven was quick, certain as he painted, and Tom could admire that level of surety. It was only a few minutes when he'd set the paints back down and then he came over to the door, giving him a small, closed mouth kiss. "Woke up without you there," Tom said. "Figured I'd come see what you were up to."

"I got an idea for this painting that wouldn't let go. How does it look? Not too busy?" Steven gestured at the landscape sitting on the easel. "Just seemed like it needed something more, you know?"

Tom stepped into the studio, walking up to examine the painting closely. "It's beautiful, Steven. The swing is like... like it needed it, and I didn't even realize it before."

Steven smiled, and gave him another kiss, and then a third, before Tom pulled back. "Just need to set down my coffee somewhere." Steven took the mug and set it on a small table, immediately returning his attention to Tom's neck, kissing and sucking softly. Tom hummed happily and wrapped his arms around Steven's back. For a long time they stood there, wrapped up in each other, but finally Tom pulled back and stepped away. "I should go home. Have to arrange to have that window fixed."

Sighing, Steven nodded. "Yeah, and I have a client in an hour. Can I - can I come by tonight?"

"I don't know what kind of mood I'm going to be in, honestly," Tom said, stretching a little. "But how about you call?"

"I can do that," he said, and Tom turned to go back to the bedroom and finish dressing, only to have his shoulder grabbed, and Steven turned him around, kissing him deep and nasty. He moaned, and wobbled on his feet when Steven released him, dazed.

Somehow he managed to keep from saying anything, instead just walking out of the room and going to the bedroom, pulling on his shirt and shoes. Coming out of the room, he heard the sound of the shower running, and he managed, barely, to keep from stripping back down and joining Steven. Instead he stuck his head in the bathroom and said, "I'm calling a taxi. I'll wait outside for them. Talk to you later?"

"Uh, huh," came the answer over the sound of the spray. "Don't worry about locking up, I'll do it when I get out of the shower."

Tom agreed and went outside to call a cab and wait for the cab. It came quickly, and he called the office as the cab got him home, explaining to Barbara that no, he was fine, just had a little accident with one of his windows, and he needed to get it fixed today. He'd certainly be in tomorrow, so reschedule the meeting with the idiot clients for later in the week, please.

By the time he hung up the phone, he was home, and he started to go up the stairs, except that there was a tingling on the back of his neck. Turning around, he spied George, sitting on the bench across the street. Oh, crap.

Sighing, he headed over. "What are you doing here?" he asked without preamble.

"I came to apologize," George answered. "Where's the sl - the young man that was here the other morning?"

"He's at home, getting ready for work," Steven answered. "So apologize already so that I can go inside. I need to call to have that window fixed."

George gulped. "I'm sorry. I know I've been a little - off balance the last few days. I hadn't realized how bad it had gotten until Jennifer called me. Can you please forgive me?"

"Forgiven. Forgotten. Now go home, George. You look like you haven't slept at all this week."

"I was hoping that I could come in so that we could talk."

"There's really nothing to talk about. We're over, done. You just need to accept that and move on."

"Baby, I'm so sorry for hitting you. Please come back - I don't think I can do it without you." George looked honestly broken up, almost like he was going to cry, but Tom hardened his heart against that look. He wasn't going to give up.

"You're going to have to. We're not a couple anymore and I'm not coming back. I've moved on. You need to do the same thing."

George looked so lost and confused that Tom nearly gave in. He had to admit that George was - comfortable, if not easy. But the last few days had reminded him of what his sex life could be like, and he was sure that he didn't want to go back to what he'd had with George. "I'm sorry, but it really is over. Please, just go home."

George stood up, nodding jerkily. "If you're sure."

"I am, yes. I did love you, George, never forget that."

"I still love you." But George turned away, and was making his way down the street.

Trying not to feel it in his heart, trying to repeat to himself that it was for the best, Tom turned away and headed into his house. It seemed small and quiet after the last few days, and for several minutes Tom just leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. Finally, he calmed down, and went to make his calls, trying to find someone to fix the glass.

It took several phone calls to find someone who could come out today, but he eventually managed it, and he settled into his den to do some work while he waited. He studiously did not think about what George was doing, or Steven for that matter. He was an adult, he was self sufficient. He didn't need someone to cling to at all hours of the day and night.

When he managed to lose himself in his work, he was surprised to hear the doorbell. It had been several hours, according to the clock, and he went to let the glazier in. He was a young man, handsome, but Tom couldn't find it in himself to be interested. Instead, he simply showed him the broken window and went back into the den, ignoring the sounds coming from his kitchen. It didn't take long, and the knock at the office door startled him. Handing over the check for the repairs, he showed the young man out.

He looked at the clock. It was going on three o'clock - too late to go into the office, even if he wanted to. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to go back to Steven's, to be held warmly and maybe held down and fucked, but he decided stubbornly that he wasn't going to do it. Instead, he buried himself in his work, ignoring the phone when it rang. He turned off the machine so he wouldn't have to hear who called.

He stood up to get some paper for the printer and got dizzy, only then realizing that he'd gone all day without eating. Sitting back down, he ordered a pizza, and then stubbornly kept working, even though he felt like shit.

When the doorbell rang about forty-five minutes later, he answered the door while digging out his wallet, only to stop short when it was Susan at his door, not the pizza guy. "Um, hi."

"Hi - can I come in?"

"Sure." The pizza guy was coming up the walk behind Susan, so he waited and paid for his pizza, taking it to the kitchen and getting down a plate. "You want some pizza?"

"No, thanks. I'm not going to stay that long." Tom shrugged and dished up a piece, opening the refrigerator and getting out a beer, then sitting at the table.

"Sorry. I haven't eaten all day and I'm starved."

Susan smiled tightly. "It's fine. I came to apologize."

"What for?" But Tom knew that Susan was still weirded out from the day before. It was obvious in the way that she wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "It was strange. I don't blame you for freaking out. I was weirded out too."

"It's still not nice that I left like that. You didn't do anything to deserve that, nor did Steven. I hope you can forgive me?" Susan's eyes were on her hands, which were twisting restlessly.

He dropped his pizza back on the plate and crouched in front of Susan, taking her hands in his and forcing her to meet his eyes. "There's nothing to forgive, Susan. You're still my best friend, always will be."

She relaxed, tension running out of her back and shoulders like water. "Oh, thank god." Leaning forward, she gave Tom a big hug, then sat back in her chair. "So, what did you and Steven do after I left?"

Tom could feel his face heating, and he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. "You two - _again_? You really are a couple of rabbits!"

He felt like his face was on fire, it was so hot. "It's not like that, really. He's just... there's something about him that just calls to me, Susan. We get along so well in the bedroom, it's amazing."

Susan squealed and petted his face, then pulled him back up to his feet. "Go, eat. Tell me all about it."

"Susan! I'm not going to tell you about what we do in the bedroom! How would you like it if I asked you what you and Jennifer did?"

"I'd tell you, of course. But you'd never ask, because you're much more of a gentleman than I am. So, spill," Susan said, laughing.

Tom fumbled with his pizza, taking a bite and thinking madly while he chewed. "The sex is great," he said after he swallowed, hoping that would be good enough for Susan, but she waved her hand in a give me more way, and he found himself saying, "Do you remember Ted? The stories I used to tell you about the bedroom? It's like that, only much, much better."

She grinned. "So he's another one who likes to play games? Oh, good - I know how much you enjoyed those. And how much George hated them - which should have been a tip off right there that he was no good for you."

Tome dropped his head to rest in his hand. "Give it a rest, would you? We've broken up, and he was here earlier. He seems to have finally gotten the message - he left without any threats or need for violence."

"I'd be happier if he hadn't come by at all, but I'll accept that. Maybe he'll get involved in a court case, something to take his mind off of you."

"That would be of the good," Tom said. Just then, the phone rang again, and Tom ignored it again.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"It's probably Steven. I told him to call, but I'm not sure what to say to him. 'I need some space, but I'd like to keep getting laid?' 'I really like you, but I'm afraid of what we could have together?' I mean, this thing with him is probably just a rebound thing, and if I take some space, I won't want it anymore."

Susan's eyes were big and serious. "God, I never realized what an idiot you are."

"What?"

"He's trying to be part of your life. Having a rock thrown at him didn't make him back off. Spooky shit didn't scare him off. And you want to let him go? You really are stupid."

Tom looked up at her, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying. "Are you saying -"

"That you'd be a fool to let him get away? Yes, yes I am. Now, I'm going to go home. You are going to do whatever the hell you feel like doing, but it _should_ include a phone call to Steven to apologize for being a dick, and then you should make another date."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. There were many reasons that he loved Susan, not least because she called him on his bullshit. "Yes, dear."

She beamed him in the head with a napkin.

Chapter Thirteen

After Susan had gone home and he'd eaten, he went over to the machine. There were two messages blinking accusingly at him, and he winced and pressed play. The first one was a hang up, and he remembered having turned the machine off before a message could be left. The second was Steven.

"Hi, Tom, it's me. Just checking to make sure that you managed to get the window fixed and wanted to make sure that you were all right. Um, call me when you get this message, or not. Talk to you later."

Tom winced again. Steven sounded so unsure of himself, nothing like the self confident man of the last few days. Picking up the phone, he held it for a long moment before pulling out Steven's card and calling him.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me.

"Tom! You okay? Did you get the window fixed?"

"Yeah, it's fine, I'm fine. Just been a long day, you know?"

"I'm sure. I should probably get off the phone, let you make an early evening of it."

Tom sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. "No, you really don't have to. It's... too quiet here, you know?"

"I know that feeling. My condo is feeling pretty empty, too. Do you want me to come over? Or do you want to come here?"

"I don't know. We've spent an awful lot of time together the last few days. Don't you want some down time?"

"If I did, I wouldn't offer, but I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I don't know what I want. You know what, if you don't mind that I have to get up early tomorrow, why don't I come over there? I don't think I want to be here right now."

"No problem. I'll look forward to seeing you."

Decision made, Tom hung up the phone. It didn't take him long to pull together clothes for the next day, and the taxi was there in fifteen minutes. He was so looking forward to having his car back.

When he got to Steven's place, Steven had apparently been watching for him, because the door opened before he even got to it. Stepping inside, Steven relieved him of his bag and kissed him, soft and gentle. Tom felt all of his defenses crumble at the honest affection in the kiss, and he returned it with interest.

But instead of leading him back to the bed, Steven led him to the living room. Sitting on the couch, he patted the cushion next to him. "There's a game on - thought we might catch that for a while."

Relieved, Tom was grateful that he didn't have to explain to anyone - not even himself - that he wasn't horny. Companionship was more what he needed, and watching the game sounded perfect. He wouldn't use the word "cuddling" to describe what he wanted, but as Steven tugged on his shoulder, that was exactly what he found himself doing.

The game was good - close in all the right ways - but Tom found himself drifting off on Steven's shoulder. The third time he jerked himself awake, Steven smiled at him and said, "I think it's time for bed. What do you think?" Tom wanted to argue, but his mouth opened wide in a yawn, and he shook his head. Why was he arguing?

They took turns in the bathroom, brushing teeth and doing other things to get ready, and then they crawled into bed. He tried to stay on his side of the bed, but Steven moved right into his personal space. When his lips met Steven's in another gentle kiss, he couldn't help the soft moan. He should be too fucked out to be horny, but his body was making his interest known, and Steven's hand slid down his torso to hold his cock in a grip that was already becoming familiar.

"You don't have to," he groaned, but he couldn't resist the soft thrust of his hips. Steven fondled him to full hardness, mouth never leaving his, but when he started to groan and thrust in earnest, he moved his hands. "Oh, oh, god," he said, trying to still his hips. It was obvious that Steven had some sort of plan.

When he reached for the lube, Tom _almost_ objected. He was sore, and he hadn't been fucked as many times as Steven in the last few days. But all Steven did was slick both of their cocks, and then roll over so he was on top of Tom, rocking carefully into the cradle of Tom's hips.

It was hot and slick, and Tom wrapped his hands around Steven's ass, grinding up into him mindlessly. Steven's breath pressed into Tom's neck, where Steven had his face nestled as he thrust. Tom's cock was in the space created by hip and torso, and Steven's cock was shoving into his stomach, and it felt almost as good as fucking.

They were both panting hard, small whines and whimpers rising from two throats as they both tried to reach completion. It only took a couple of strokes, and Steven was crying harshly, spilling over Tom's chest and stomach, and then with the extra wetness easing his cock, Tom followed him over the edge.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their harsh breathing, and then Steven groaned and pulled himself off of Tom, turning on his side and running his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach. "Probably should clean up," he said, and it would have sounded more impressive if he hadn't yawned in the middle. He did, though, and Tom couldn't help the sleepy chuckle that he gave in response.

Sliding out from under Steven took work and coordination that Tom didn't quite have, so it took him several minutes. Then he padded to the bathroom, cleaning up the come all over his stomach and chest, bringing back a washcloth to clean up Steven. Climbing back in the bed once he was done, he made no effort to keep space between them, curling up in a tangle with Steven that was warm and comfortable, falling asleep almost immediately.

He woke to bright lights and the sound of a struggle. "What the fuck - " In Steven's voice, followed by the meaty thud of a fist on flesh. Another blow, and then Steven's voice fell silent. Tom sat up, realizing that this wasn't a dream.

Getting out of the bed, he took two steps before he tripped over Steven's prone body. Dropping to his knees, he felt for a pulse as he looked up to see George. George was barely recognizable, his face a twisted mask of insanity.

"What are you doing here, George?" He said, trying to stay calm. Pulse, pulse, he could feel Steven's pulse, and that meant he was okay, just knocked out cold. He couldn't look down to see where Steven had been hit, though. He had to keep his eyes on George, who horrified him by pulling a gun out of belt. "Just - just put that down, okay? There's no need for any of this."

George laughed, and even the sound was insane. "I told you, Tom. You're mine, and I don't share. This little slut has had enough of you, and I'm going to make sure he never takes you again."

Tom carefully climbed to his feet and stepped over Steven, keeping himself between Steven and George. "You don't want to do this, George. You're not a killer. You're going to put that down now, and we're going to talk."

Breath coming in harsh pants, George tried to circle him, tried to point the gun at Steven. "We're done talking. I'm going to take care of this little problem, and then I'm taking you home where you belong. Now get out of my way."

Acutely aware that he was naked, that Steven was unconscious and helpless on the floor, Tom refused to step out of the way. "I'll go with you, George. Just stop pointing that gun, okay? Put it away, let me get dressed, and we'll go. Just take a deep breath and calm down."

George did as he asked and took a deep breath, but didn't lower the gun. "Get dressed."

Shaking slightly, afraid to step away from Steven, he refused. "Not until you put down the gun."

George grunted and lowered the gun a little. "If you shoot him, you'll have to shoot me too, and that isn't your plan, is it, George? Just remember that, that you want to get me alone, and that's only going to happen if he's still alive." George didn't say anything but he tucked the gun back into his belt.

Tom waiting a moment, then turned away to find his clothes. He tried to take his time, hoping that Steven would wake up before he could be forced to leave with George, but George must have realized that he was stalling. "Hurry up, Tom. You have one minute, and then I'm marching you out of here regardless of how dressed you are."

Tom sped up, sliding his t shirt on and pulling on his shoes, just as George said, "Time's up." When Tom looked up to see the gun pointing at him, and that barrel looked awful big. Holding his hands out at his sides, he tried to look as unthreatening as possible.

"I'm ready. Just let me sit Steven up a little, okay?"

"No. You're not touching the slut." George waved the gun towards the door. Not knowing what else to do, Tom eased to his feet and started to walk. He hoped that Steven was okay, that he'd wake up soon. Most importantly, he hoped that Steven would find his wallet and cell phone that held George's contact information, because otherwise he suspected that he'd not be living through another day.

Preceding George, he realized that George must have kicked in the front door, because it was hanging crazily off its hinges. He wanted to take a minute to try and fix the door, but then realized that hopefully someone would notice and come to see what was wrong. Leaving it, hands still held out at his side, he made his way out of the condo and paused, blind in the darkness.

"This way," and George shoved him to the right. He stumbled and nearly fell, but somehow kept moving. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the change of light. His eyes finally let him start to see just as they got to George's car. Opening the trunk, George pushed him again. "Get in."

"What? No! I'm coming willingly, George, you don't need to do this."

"Yeah, right. You're only coming because you know if you try to run I'll go back and kill your little boy toy. Now, get in before you force me to do something I don't want to do."

Tom eyed the trunk with growing panic. He couldn't get in there, he really couldn't. But George was insisting. Feeling more trapped than ever, he started to step into the trunk, only to turn at the last moment. "Please don't - "

Then he felt a crack across the temple, and that was the last thing he remembered.

He only stirred when he felt himself being lifted from the trunk, and draped unceremoniously over someone's shoulder. He tried to make himself lift his head, look around, but he couldn't. It was everything he could do not to throw up as he was jostled around.

Then the world spun as he was sat down on the side of the bed. Unable to keep his balance, he flopped backwards, lying on the bed that was vaguely familiar, staring up at a white ceiling. He tried to make his mind track, tried to remember what had happened, but it was all fuzzy. The last clear memory he had was sleeping in Steven's bed, and then there was a fight? A flash came across his brain, and he remembered Steven, unconscious on his floor. Sitting bold upright, he called "Steven?"

"Your little slut isn't here." George. He was at George's place, and now that he recognized that, he saw the familiar furnishings of George's bedroom. His head ached abominably, and he still felt as though he was going to throw up. "And now we're going to have a little talk. But first, take off your clothes."

"What? No." His head was spinning and he didn't think he'd be able to stand up, much less fight George. "I can't. I don't feel so good."

"I don't care. You've made me watch for more than a week as you cheated on me, and I'm going to get a little of my own back. Now take off your clothes, or I'll cut them off you."

Fingers clumsy, Tom tried to slip off his shirt, only to have to stop and breathe deeply to keep from throwing up, George made a disgusted sound and grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it off, over his head, then pulled him to his feet so he could unbuckle and drop his pants. All Tom could do was desperately hold on, because he was going to fall, Christ, he was going to fall and then George was going to _kill_ him. Pushing him back on the bed, George yanked his pants down and away, pulling off his shoes at the same time. Only when Tom was lying there naked did he stop.

Tom tried to talk George out of whatever he was planning. "You shouldn't do this. Steven is going to call the police, and they're going to find me here, and then you're going to go to _jail_. You don't want that - "

George backhanded him across the face, making his ears ring and the nausea rise up again, spiking. For a long moment, all he could do was gag and hope that he wasn't about to vomit. "Your little slut isn't going to do a damn thing. It's not like he's gonna care what happens to you, and he'll be too afraid of me to try and take me on. I'm not going to jail."

"Don't be too sure of that - so far you're guilty of breaking and entering, assault, and kidnapping. Don't make this any worse for yourself, please. Just - let's call the police, and we'll see if we can get you some help, instead of prison time."

George hit him again, and he fell silent, feeling his mouth fill with blood from where his teeth had cut into his cheek. Gingerly, he felt his teeth with his tongue, relieved that none of them had been knocked loose. His attention was pulled back when George went to rummage in a drawer of his dresser, pulling out a set of leather cuffs. "You always wanted our sex life to be more adventuresome, didn't you, Tom? Well, we're going to correct that. Now, give me your wrists."

Tom just stared at him, unable to believe that George was that far from reality. The man had kidnapped him and he honestly thought that he'd be willing to play sex games? Now? George grinned and pulled the gun back out, pointing it at his leg. "Give me your wrist or we'll see how much you enjoy sex with a bullet in your leg."

Silently, Tom decided that this was going to happen whether he fought George or not, and if he wanted a chance to survive it, he needed to cooperate. Holding out his wrists, he tried not to wince as the leather was tightened painfully. George shoved him down, and he obediently stretched out on the bed, letting George clip the cuffs together through the headboard. "Please don't do this, George. This isn't the way to get me back - all you're doing is causing more trouble for yourself."

There was a hiss as George pulled his belt from his pants. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Tom heard the crack of the leather hitting his ass before he felt it, then there was a sudden searing pain through his body.

"Stop, please, stop!" But George was on a roll, and the belt fell over and over. He tried to roll to escape it, but that only led to marks on his chest and thighs, and when the end of the belt caught his dick, he screamed and stopped moving, nervous system overloaded.  
Chester interlude four

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Chester crouched by Steven's head, trying to get him to wake up. He didn't look good, but at least he was breathing, which was more than Tom was going to be doing in a little while if he didn't manage to get someone to help him. He tried to shake Steven's shoulder, and he shivered and jerked awake.

"Wha?" His head lifted from the floor, and he looked around blearily. "What happened?"

"George was here - he took Tom. Come on, we have to hurry - George has a gun!" Chester was practically frantic, trying to get Steven up and moving.

"Tom?" Steven pried himself off the floor, still looking woozy and shaken up. "Tom, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I told you - George has him. He was most definitely _not_ okay!" Chester paced behind Steven as he systematically moved through the condo, looking for Tom who _wasn't there_. "God, I can't believe you're this stupid. Tom would never have left you on the floor."

When Steven spotted the front door, still hanging off his hinges, he bit his lip, looking awfully young. Then, he shook his head and made his way back to the bedroom. With one hand he picked up the phone, while he tried to put his pants on with the other. "What are you doing?" Chester asked, then saw him dial nine - one - "No! We don't have time for the police! They'll come here and ask questions and by the time they get to Tom, it'll be too late!" Using all the force he could, he knocked the phone off the nightstand.

Steven froze, staring at where the phone lay on the floor in two pieces. "Okay, who's here?" he asked, his voice scared.

Chester focused in a way that he'd never had before, and suddenly Steven blinked at him, clearly aware of him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Chester, and there's no time for introductions. You have to help Tom!" Chester didn't even blink at the fact that Steven seemed surprised to see him.

"I don't even know where George would have taken him! How the hell am I supposed to help him?"

Chester waved to the pile of clothing still on the floor. "His wallet and cell phone are there, and I think George is still in his wallet as his emergency contact. You should be able to find his address from that, or are you not as smart as I think you are?"

Steven blinked again, and then pawed frantically through the clothes piled on the floor. Sure enough, there was Tom's wallet, and he flipped it open, looking at the driver's license. "Don't worry, Tom, I'm going to get you back." Then he was flipping through the pictures and other detritus of life to find the emergency contact card. It listed George Samuels and gave an address that was near Tom's.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!" Chester was already moving towards the door, when Steven stopped.

"Wait - we should call the police. They should handle this." But Steven looked unsure of himself, and Chester couldn't help it, he got right in Steven's face.

"The police would take too long, and it's not a position that Tom would want them to find him in. Do you love my great grandson?"

Looking bemused, Steven said, "What? We've only been dating a week, most of which has been messed up by this psycho."

Chester poked him in the chest, ignoring the way that his finger sunk halfway into Steven. "Do. You. Love. Him?"

Steven swallowed hard. "God help me, but yes."

"Then let's _go_." And they went.

Chapter fourteen

"Baby, I'm sorry. You're going to be all right," George was whispering in his ear, but Tom was in too much pain to hear him clearly. His whole body burned and ached and if he could just get the address of the truck driver that hit him, he'd go over there right now and give him what for. "I'm so sorry, baby, but you just make me so mad. You're mine, not anyone else's and I don't share. You know that."

"George?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"What happened? Why do I hurt so bad?" He tried to sit up, only to realize that his hands were bound to the bed. With that, the memories of the last few hours came flooding back and he retched. Thankfully, he didn't bring anything up, but the effort left him shaking and weak, his head pounding unmercifully. When he could finally breathe again, he rattled his wrists. "Let me up, George."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, baby. I know if you just give me some time, I can make it up to you, and then we'll get back together and everything will be all right, you'll see. We're good together."

"There is no us, there won't be an us again. Just let me up, George." But George moved like he was going to hit Tom again, who flinched away.

"Aw, baby, don't be like that. Let me remind you how good it used to be." And George stood up, and started to strip off his clothes. Tom couldn't believe this. He was fairly sure he had a concussion, George had just whipped him, and now he expected to get laid? He pulled on the cuffs, trying desperately to get loose. George turned and pulled out a condom. "Normally, we'd bareback, but you've been fucking that little slut, and I don't think it would be a good idea till you got tested again." George was slicking the condom over his dick, and Tom retched again.

When he finally could breathe again, he yanked on the restraints hard enough that he could feel something _snap_ and he screamed. White hot pain flooded his body, and he tried to curl up around his arm, but George was pulling on his legs, stretching him out and pulling his legs wide.

Tom tried to fight, tried to pull his legs together, but George just forced them wide, and then there was a cock at his hole, pressing in. He screamed in pain again, as his unlubricated and unprepared passage tore. George ignored his sounds of pain, and pressed inside forcefully. Tom sobbed into his arm, breath coming harsh and painful as he tried to force his body to relax, to accept the intrusion so that it wouldn't hurt so badly, but his body was fighting him every step of the way. Just as he thought he couldn't bear another second, there was a slamming noise, then the sound of someone pounding up the stairs.

"I'm in here! Help!" he cried, only to have George place one meaty palm over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air.

"Shhh. Shut up or I'll kill you." Terrified, Tom tried to quiet his noises, but he couldn't help the whine that got out as George finally let him breathe again.

"Tom? Tom! Are you here?" It was Steven's voice, and Tom's first thought was a hysterical thought that he wasn't dead, followed by the question of why he hadn't called the police. The door slammed open, and Steven stamped in, looking like an avenging angel.

He realized he was hysterical, even as George pulled out and jumped to his feet. He looked ridiculous, naked, with his hard on coming down, but still wearing a condom. "He's mine. Get out of here."

"He's not yours, and the police are on their way, so back away from him and sit down on the floor, or this is going to be much, much worse for you."

"You don't have the balls to call the cops," and Tom looked up just in time to see Steven color and drop his head a little, and Tom realized that no, he really hadn't called the police. They were _so_ screwed.

 

But Steven took a deep breath and charged George, catching him around the middle, knocking him off balance. They went down in a tangle of bodies, and Tom couldn't see anything, just hear the sounds of flesh on flesh, and he called, desperate, "Steven, Steven, are you okay?"

There was a satisfying _crack_ and then Steven popped up. One eye was already bruising, and his hair was disheveled, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that he was okay, and Tom breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god."

"Just give me a second and I'll get you untied." Steven's hands were already busy with the cuffs, unlacing them and helping Tom turn over carefully. "Thank god you're okay. Are you badly injured?"

Tom looked down over his body, covered with red welts, his wrist broken, his ass burning, his head aching, and couldn't help the laugh. "I'm just fine. What are we going to do about George?"

"This time you are really calling the police, and we're having him arrested. Even if you don't want to press charges, _I_ do, and he's going down. I don't care what he does for a living." Steven looked determined, and a little like if Tom tried to argue, he was going to shake him.

But Tom hadn't gotten to being thirty-four without learning a little bit about when to give in, so he just nodded. He was still nodding even as George shot to his feet, his hands clamped around the gun. "You fucking slut. I should have killed you earlier," he growled. Tom saw his finger tightening on the gun, and lunged, shoving Steven out of the way, and feeling a blinding pain in his good arm.

From there, he wasn't sure what happened, because there was a shrieking sound that seemed torn out of the house itself, and he recoiled as a black formless mass formed behind George, swirling and twisting. George turned, staring at the mass and shouted, "No, no!" firing the gun repeatedly at the mass.

But the black cloud just moved to envelop George, and then there was a clear human scream coming from inside it. As suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared, leaving George lying on the floor, pale and not moving. There wasn't a mark on him, not even from where Steven had hit him.

Steven stared at him with wide eyes, then slipped off the bed and put his fingers to George's throat. "There's no pulse, and he's not breathing." Tom's first thought was for CPR, but he somehow suspected it wouldn't do any good. Instead, he tried to clutch at his bleeding shoulder and stared at the body of George, lying on the floor.

Standing back up, Steven crossed to the phone and picked it up. After checking for a dial tone, he called 911 and said, clearly and steadily, "We need police at nine fifty seven Charles place. We've got the victim of an assault, and his attacker is dead. No, he didn't kill him, he appears to have dropped dead in the middle of the attack." There was a pause, and then Steven said, "Yes, we're not going anywhere. We're going to need an ambulance as well. Tom has a broken arm and he's been shot in the other arm. Yes, I said shot. The gun is still here, but George is dead." Another pause, and then Steven said, "Okay. We'll be here."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Steven grabbed the sheet, folding it over several times and pressing it to Tom's shoulder. The pain was blinding, and Tom blinked hard, trying not to cry or black out. "What are we going to tell the police, Steven?"

Steven bit his lip, staring at George on the floor. "You're not going to tell them anything other than the fact that George assaulted you. You're injured and can be forgiven for not remembering what happened. I'll figure out what to tell them about George. You don't worry about it."

Tom closed his eyes. His whole body hurt. "Okay. Are you - you okay?"

For the first time, Steven's voice sounded less than steady. "No, but I will be. I just wish I knew - " He cut himself off, and Tom jerked in response, hissing as the movement jarred his broken wrist.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, only to hear the sounds of movement downstairs. "Police! Anyone here?"

"We're upstairs and unarmed!" called back Steven, who slid off the bed and stood.

"Put your hands up!"

Steven did as he was instructed, calling back, "Tom's injured - he can't lift his arms." Two officers made their way inside cautiously, weapons drawn. Steven didn't move, not even to watch them as they carefully circled him and got a good look at Tom, who realized he should be embarrassed to have strangers see him like this, but hurt enough that he didn't care.

One of the officers dropped to check George for a heartbeat, while the other asked Tom, "Are you all right, sir? What happened?"

"No, I'm really not."

Steven cut in. "He really needs pressure on that gunshot wound on his shoulder, and his other wrist is broken. Can I help him?"

The officer on the bed stepped back, keeping a cautious watch as Steven slowly moved back to the bed, putting pressure on the wound and whispering, "I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

That was the last that Tom knew, because the pain finally shook him like a dog and then dragged him under.

Chapter fifteen

Tom woke up in the ambulance, only to have the paramedic do something painful to his arm that sent him right back under. The next time he woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed in what was clearly an emergency room. He was dizzy and there were people doing very unpleasant things to his arm and wrist. "Ow, ow, ow!"

Immediately, the man stopped. "Oh, good, you're awake. I'm Doctor Josh Flagg. What's your name, son?"

"Tom Sykes."

"Well, nice to meet you, Tom. Too bad it's under these circumstances. You're pretty beaten up there, and we're going to do what we can to fix you up." The doctor stuck his head out of the curtain. "Nurse, do we have back Mr. Sykes's counts?"

"Yes, Doctor." Tom could vaguely see a woman hand Doctor Flagg a piece of paper. Still dizzy and feeling nauseous again, he listened as an order was given for a unit of blood to be hung. She disappeared for a moment, then came back with a bag of saline that was added to the IV that he already had going. He had been so out of it that he hadn't even noticed the needle in his arm till the nurse started adjusting it.

The doctor came up and asked him, "So, you've got a gunshot wound in your arm, your other arm looks like it's broken, and you've been beat to hell and back. Did I miss anything?"

Tom had to think carefully to get his mouth to work. "My head - I got hit in the head with a gun. And, uh," he glanced at the nurse, who finished up with the IV and stepped back out. "I think I might be, um, torn." He could feel the blood flooding his face.

The doctor's face softened. "You really have had a bad day, haven't you? So, the first thing we need to do is check out your head, see what we find there." Calling the nurse back over, he gave an order for a CAT scan, and then paused. "While we're waiting for them to be ready for you, is there someone we can call?"

Tom thought about it. He really wanted Steven there, but for all he knew, Steven was tied up with the cops. Besides, he wasn't sure that he'd want anything to do with Tom after all this. Instead, he nodded, and said, "I'd like to call my friend, Susan."

Smiling, the doctor said, "Let the nurse know and someone will call her, ask her to come here."

He almost nodded before he remembered the head injury. Instead he said, "Thank you," and left it at that. After the doctor had left, the nurse came back in to get Susan's contact information, and left again almost immediately.

Too sore and sick to move, Tom laid back against the bed and contemplated what had happened. George was dead, he was fairly certain, killed by... something. He thought that should upset him, but all he could feel was numb.

He drifted off to sleep, only to be woken after a few minutes by an orderly. "Mr. Sykes? We're here to take you to CAT scan, all right?"

This time he did forget, and nodded, only to reawaken the throbbing in his head. "Aw, Jesus, that hurts." The orderly looked sympathetic, and gave him a chance to recover before he started to roll the bed down the hall. The CAT scan was miserable, too loud and too small, making him feel claustrophobic, and by the time they pulled him back out, he was sick to his stomach from the pain.

It wasn't improved when they took the x-rays of his wrist, asking him to turn it various directions after each shot. Just looking at it made him queasy. It was black and blue and swollen all along one side.

When they were done, he was wheeled back to the emergency room, where the doctor was waiting for him. "Lucky for you, it's a quiet day today. I've got the report here from the radiologist, which shows no bleeding in your head and a broken wrist. Looks like it's just a mild concussion. You were lucky. I'm sure your head hurts like a son of a bitch, though, and unfortunately we can't give you anything for it besides some Tylenol just yet."

"I'll take the Tylenol, then. Anything that might help," Tom said.

The doctor nodded. "I thought you'd feel that way, so we have some right here." He started to hand the cup to Tom, only to remember that he couldn't use either arm very well. Instead, he held the cup up to Tom's mouth, tipping the pills onto his tongue, then holding the water for him to drink.

Just as Tom was settling back into bed, there was the sound of heels on the floor, and the curtain was parted a few inches. Susan peeked in. "Tom?"

"Hi, Susan. Guess you were right about George - I should have reported him to the police."

Susan came into the little cubicle, circling so that she could stand on the opposite side as the doctor. "Oh, my god, what happened? Is that... were you _shot_?"

Tom looked a little abashed, but before he could say anything, the doctor interrupted. "Yes, he was, Ms..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, doctor. Susan Graham - I'm a friend of Tom's."

"Ms. Graham. I was just about to start evaluate his arm, so if you would step outside?"

"No, I want her to stay," Tom said, trying, and failing, to take her hand. Reaching for her pulled on the cut on his arm, and he hissed and dropped his hand again, trying to get it under control.

Susan looked to the doctor, and said, "If it's okay, I'd rather stay." Doctor Flagg nodded and shifted a little, reaching out to the bandage that was still secured to his arm.

"Okay, I'm going to take this off." His hands were gentle as he unwrapped Tom's arm, but Tom hissed anyway as it jostled him. "All right, that doesn't look too bad." He turned away for a moment, then turned back with a needle. "I'm just going to give you a little bit of Novocain, so I can examine it without it hurting too bad." At Tom's nod, he injected the syringe into his arm, and said, "Let's give that a minute to work - I'll be right back." With a nod to Susan, the doctor excused himself from the room, leaving Tom alone with Susan.

Tom refused to look at her, afraid of what he'd see. He knew he deserved to be censured for his complete idiocy with regards to George, but he didn't really want to hear it right now. He _hurt_.

But all Susan did was hook a stool over so she could sit down. "Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're all right," she said eventually.

He nodded miserably, even though the Novocain was starting to kick in, numbing his arm from the shoulder down. The lessening of pain made him limp on the bed, and when he glanced at Susan out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was smiling gently at him. "Better?"

"Much," he answered. Before he could say anything else, the doctor was back with one of the nurses, and together they cleaned out the gash on his arm.

"Well, today was your lucky day all around, Tom. This is just a graze. It's going to need a few stitches, but that's all."

"Can I go home tonight?"

The doctor carefully made eye contact with him. "Let's see what the rest of your injuries look like first, okay?"

Tom realized what the doctor was referring to and flushed deeply. The stitching didn't take long, and neither did the splinting of his broken wrist. A police photographer arrived and took pictures of the sutured wound on his shoulder and then the doctor said, "Ms Graham? At this point I'm going to have to insist that you step outside. We need to examine Tom to make sure that he's not badly injured anywhere else."

Before Tom could object, Susan nodded and slipped out of the alcove. The doctor waited until the curtain closed behind her and then said, "Okay, Tom. We're going to have to slip this blanket off, and take a look at you, okay?"

Tom nodded, and the blanket was whisked down and away. He glanced down at himself, and then closed his eyes. He was covered in bruises, and he knew that his backside was much, much worse.

The doctor's hands were gentle as he cataloged the injuries, dictating to the nurse and making space for the photographer to take his picture over and over. "What caused these, son?" the doctor asked, fingering one of the welts on his thigh.

"A belt," Tom said with his teeth clenched, trying not to let the pain he was feeling bleed through.

"I'm sorry, Tom. We're almost done." The doctor and nurse helped him roll over onto his stomach, a maneuver that left him sweating and trying not to cry out. More photographs, and then he was gently eased up on his knees. A finger was inserted and gently moved around, and Tom tried hard not to cry, but it was humiliating. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he dropped flat on his stomach.

Doctor Flagg immediately herded everyone out of the room, coming back in alone. "I'm sorry about that, Tom. We're all done now."

Tom turned on his side, feeling ill. He could sympathize with women about being raped - the exam had possibly been the most humiliating thing he'd ever endured. "I just want to go home."

After covering him back up, the doctor moved up close to him and sat down on the stool. "Do you have someone to stay with you?"

Thinking about it, the first person that crossed his mind was Steven, but no. He couldn't ask that of him, and he didn't want to go stay at Susan and Jennifer's. Reluctantly, he shook his head. "Then I'm afraid you're going to have to stay here tonight. Just for one night, and in the morning the orthopedist will be here. Once your arm has been casted, then we'll let you go home."

Tom swallowed back his frustration and nodded. "Okay, but can I talk to Susan for a little while?"

"Of course, son."

Standing up, the doctor walked out of the curtained alcove, and immediately Susan came back in. "Tom?"

"Hey, Susan. They're going to keep me overnight and I have a couple of favors to ask."

Susan brushed his hair back off his face. "Just name 'em, sweetie."

"Could you get me a change of clothes? And, um, I think my wallet and cell phone are at Steven's - if you could try to get those for me, I'd really appreciate it."

"Done and done, honey. Anything else?"

He really didn't want to ask the last thing, but he figured that the last person that Steven would want to see would be him, so, "Could you check to make sure Steven's okay? That the police aren't holding him or anything? Tell him - tell him that I'll understand if he doesn't want to see me anymore after this."

Susan leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I'm sure that he'll want to see you again."

"Please, Susan. Don't try to make me feel better, just promise me you'll check on him."

"Okay, I will, no arguing. But if he wants to see you?"

"He knows where to find me." But Tom knew that they were over.

The orderly came in with a wheelchair. "So, we're moving you upstairs to a room. Ready to go?"

Tom nodded and sat up as best he could, and let the orderly help him into a gown and then into the chair. By the time he turned around again, Susan was gone.

Chapter sixteen

It was a fitful night's sleep, not least because the nurses kept coming in to wake him up every few hours. It didn't help that every time he closed his eyes, he saw George's face just before the black cloud engulfed him.

The police came by first thing in the morning to take his statement. That didn't take long, as he said he couldn't remember much. He was very clear that George had attacked and kidnapped him, and that Steven had come to rescue him. When they asked what killed George, he truthfully said he didn't know, but he suspected a heart attack. He had no interest in staying in the hospital's psych ward for saying a black cloud killed him.

When the orthopedist came in about nine o'clock, he was more than ready to have a real cast in place of the splint, since his arm was _aching_. The doctor said that he had been very lucky - there were several fractures, but none of them were out of place, which meant that he didn't have to have it set. Applying the cast didn't take long, and then he was gone, with instructions for Tom to schedule a follow up visit in a week, and that he'd probably have to wear the cast for six.

Alone, Tom tried to allow his mind to drift, hoping to get some more sleep. But it proved to be elusive, teasing him with its presence and then taking it away again. He'd just drifted off for the third time when there was a soft knock on the door.

He dragged open his eyes, and saw Susan peeking through the door. Waving for her to come in, he was surprised when she shook her head at him and walked away. Then Steven walked into the room.

Shocked silent, he just stared as Steven crossed the room and sat in the chair next his bed. "How are you?"

Tom shook his head. Such a mundane question, and how could he even begin to answer it? "I'm okay, I guess. How about you?"

"Tired. The police kept me there pretty late, answering questions, but the answer pretty much boiled down to 'I don't know,' over and over. They haven't been by to bother you, have they?"

"There was an officer here this morning, but all I could tell him was that I didn't remember. He didn't seem too happy about it." Tom studied Steven's face from under lashes. He had a black eye, and bruise on the side of his face, and still he was the hottest thing that Tom had seen in years. "I wanted to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't gotten there when you did."

Steven turned his chair so that he was looking dead on at Tom. "There's no need to thank me, Tom. I'd like to think that we're beyond all this formal crap. I did what I did for you, because I like you. I'm a little insulted that you told Susan that you didn't expect me to stick around after all that."

"You got knocked out cold by my psycho ex! That would never have happened if you hadn't been seeing me. I wouldn't blame you if you blamed me for it. That's all - I wasn't trying to insult you or anything."

"And yet you did it again. You're taking the blame that rightly rests on George's head, and he's the only one I blame for what happened. You did nothing wrong, except maybe give George the benefit of the doubt for too long."

Tom sat back in the bed, trying to wrap his head around this state of affairs. Apparently Steven wasn't blaming him for what happened, even though he should have. Maybe they wouldn't have to split up over this. Then Tom shifted, and as pain flared, realized that it was going to be a long time, if ever, before he'd want to have sex again, and it wouldn't be fair to Steven to ask him to wait. Better to send him away than expect more than he could give.

Trying to be as formal as he could be, he said, "Well, I thank you again for saving my life. If there's something I can do in return, please let me know. Right now, though, I'm tired. The nurses kept me up all night."

Steven, looking confused, stood up. "Don't let me keep you up if you're tired." He edged his way towards the door, and when Tom didn't stop him from leaving, left the room, with one last meaningful glance sent his way.

When he'd left, Tom buried his head in his hands. He had done what needed to be done. Why did he feel so crappy about it?

Susan wandered in a few minutes later. "Where's Steven?"

"I sent him home. I didn't need him here."

Looking shocked, Susan sat down in the chair. "What? I mean, why? Do you realize what you're doing?"

"I know what I'm doing, Susan. But - I don't think I'm going to want to be in a relationship for a while. It wouldn't be fair to ask Steven to wait for me. This way, he gets on with his life."

"You're a real idiot, Tom. You do realize that, right?"

Tom sighed. He didn't know how to explain this without going into details that he didn't want to share. "Just leave it alone, Susan. I've got my reasons."

"Your reasons, whatever they are, suck, Tom! The man cares for you, might even love you, and for you to just walk away now just shows me exactly how stupid you are."

"Susan, just let it drop, okay? I can't right now."

Susan looked like she wanted to argue with him, but instead she folded her lips and her arms tight, swallowing down the words she wanted to say. Eventually, she relaxed a little bit, enough to say, "Have you seen the doctor today?"

"I saw the orthopedist," he waved his cast in emphasis, "but I don't know if I'm being discharged or not. I'm sure you have things to do, so you don't need to hang around. If you brought me some clothes, you can just leave them here and I'll call you when I get home."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"Please, Susan, just let me be - at least for today. Please?" Tom tried to put all the sincerity he felt into the expression on his face. He desperately wanted to go home and be alone for a while, and as much as he loved Susan, her company was starting to grate.

She tensed back up, studying his face, but eventually nodded. Picking up the bag at her feet, she stood and put it in the chair. "Your wallet and phone are in the bag as well. You should have everything you need, at least till you get home. Do you promise to call if you need anything, anything at all?"

"I promise. I love you, now go home to Jennifer, or to work, or wherever you should be right now. I promise I won't do anything stupid."

"It's too late for that, Tom, but I trust you that you won't do anything _else_ stupid." Picking up her purse, Susan leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Tom nodded, and then she was gone. He tried to relax, tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, but he wasn't having much luck with it. There was a large part of himself that said that Susan was right, and that he was a fool for letting what George had done drive away Steven - not least because it was exactly what George would have wanted.

He didn't have long to mope, though, because the doctor came in. "Okay, your counts are good this morning, your arm has been casted. How's the head?"

"Better. Just a little bit of a headache."

"Okay, I think it's safe to let you go home. You can't drive for the rest of the week, and I'd recommend that you stay home till next Monday, but let your body dictate that. Any questions?"

"No, I think I'm good." _How was he supposed to live without anyone in his life?_

The doctor left, saying something about going to get the nurse for the discharge paperwork, and Tom carefully worked his way out of the bed to get dressed. He felt a lot better with clothes on, more defensible, and that made him feel right about what he'd done.

Dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the nurse. It took about forty-five minutes, but eventually she came in, holding a sheaf of papers. She helped him get into a wheelchair, and pushed him down to the exit. Thankfully, there was a cab there, and he climbed in and gave the driver his address.

Leaning his head back against the seat, Tom closed his eyes as the taxi drove him home. He didn't mean to fall asleep, but the driver had to shake him when they got to his house. "Sir? Sir? We're here."

"What? Oh, sorry." Pulling out a handful of cash, he paid the driver, over tipping him by far, and then got out of the car. Going into the house, he debated going to bed, but he decided that he didn't want to go up the stairs to the bedroom. He hurt too badly to contemplate climbing. Instead, he went to living room and made himself comfortable on the couch. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Barbara.

He explained that he'd been attacked and in the hospital last night, but he was okay, really. After Barbara calmed down again, he told her that he wouldn't be in for the rest of the week, and could she please reschedule his appointments? She agreed easily, and he made a mental note to make sure to get her a raise. He knew how much trouble the clients from hell were going to be.

Hanging up, he leaned back on the couch, trying to find a position that didn't put too much pressure on his ass or any of the assorted welts. He failed, but he at least tried. Eventually, he fell asleep, dreaming that Steven was there.

Chester Interlude Five

"Do you love him?"

Steven looked disturbed to see Chester again, and closed his eyes. "It's a figment of your imagination," he said, eyes still screwed tight. "When you open your eyes, he'll be gone."

"Want to bet?"

Steven whimpered. "I'm not seeing a ghost. I'm not. It's not possible!"

"Of course you're not seeing a ghost." Chester snorted in disgust. A ghost? What was this kid smoking? "I'm Tom's great grandfather, not a ghost."

Steven's eyes opened, and he blinked, then blinked again. "If you're not a ghost, how can I see through you?"

Chester ignored that. "Do you love him?"

Steven turned and walked away, ignoring Chester. Chester easily kept pace, eventually backing him into a wall and grabbing him by the arm. "I asked you a question. Do you love him?"

"Yes, I love him! But he doesn't love me, or weren't you there when he gave me my walking papers? He doesn't want anything to do with me!"

Taking a deep breath, Chester wished he had his wife's facility with language. He was going to have to tread carefully. "He's scared, or are you too stupid to realize that?" Or maybe not.

"I know he's scared," Steven said, wilting, "but I'm not going to force him into something he doesn't want. That's what George did to him, and I'm not going to repeat it."

"The difference is that he does want you. He's sitting on his couch right now, wishing that he was strong enough to pick up the phone and call you. But he's hurt and he's scared and he's afraid that he's lost the best thing in his life."

Steven slid down the wall, sitting on the floor and wrapping his arms around his knees. Chester didn't say anything else, just left him sitting there. He'd been away from Tom long enough. The ball was in Steven's court now.

Chapter Seventeen

A cold draft woke Tom on the couch, and he shivered. His body ached, his arm hurt, and his head didn't bear thinking about. He wanted, more than anything, for Steven to be there. But he knew that he had a long way to go before he was ready to think about a relationship, and lying here on the sofa wasn't going to accomplish anything.

Moving slowly and carefully, he pried himself off the couch. First order of business was trying to eat something. He went into the kitchen, and then just stood there. The last time he'd been here, he'd been with Steven, after George had broken in. Maybe he wasn't hungry after all.

Resolutely ignoring the rumbling in his gut, he left the kitchen and went into the office. Turning on the computer, he ignored his email and started up CAAD. Maybe he could get some work done. That would be good, would put him less behind when he finally made it back into the office.

Focusing on the building plans made his head hurt, but he refused to give up. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, enough so that when the doorbell rang he startled.

Wondering who the hell could be ringing the doorbell - everyone he knew was at work - he answered it, mind still a million miles away on the details of the office building he was designing. It was a delivery service from one of the local restaurants. "I didn't order anything. You must have the wrong address."

"Mr. Sykes?" Tom did a double take.

"That's me, but I'm telling you, I didn't order anything."

"I know you didn't. This was ordered and paid for by Steven? He asked that we deliver it here."

Confused, he took the bag from the delivery boy and then scrabbled in his pockets for some cash. Pulling out a five, he tipped the boy, and then took the bag into the kitchen.

Pulling out a container of soup and a huge salad, he set them on the counter. When he went to throw the bag away, he realized there was a note.

_Tom,_

I know you want to be alone right now, but I figured you were probably too sore to cook. So, here's some comfort food. I hope you enjoy.

Call me when you're ready.

Steven

Tom only realized that he was shaking when he found himself leaning up against the refrigerator, barely able to stand on his own. Even with him trying to drive Steven away, Steven was leaving it open. That was so much more than he expected from someone he'd known less than two weeks, who'd been assaulted because of him.

The smell of the soup, thick and salty, got through his impending breakdown, and he was suddenly ravenous. Pulling out a bowl and spoon, he ladled some of the soup out. Carrying it carefully to the table, he sat down and ate. Each bite calmed him further, until he finally was full.

Leaving the dishes where they were, he stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom. Lying down fully dressed, he let himself finally shake and shiver until he was numb.

Eventually, he slept.

***

The rest of the week passed in a blur. All it felt like he was doing was sleeping, but he knew logically he was getting things done. The plans for the office building were almost done, his house was clean, and he was starting to get a bad case of cabin fever.

So, when Susan showed up on Friday morning, he practically jumped at the chance to get out of the house. His need for something living in the house was overwhelming, and he talked her into taking him to the pound.

He contemplated a dog, but he was gone so much of the day it would be unfair. A cat, though, would be a little more self sufficient, and would make his house feel like there was someone there with him.

As Susan cooed over the kittens, he looked at the older cats. He didn't have the time or energy for a kitten, but there was an elegant cat among the older ones, one that had a look in her eyes like "These bastards aren't going to keep me down."

Her name was Marga, and according to the card on her cage, it was her last day, and that just cemented things as far as Tom was concerned. The woman behind the counter was overjoyed that he'd picked Marga out. "She's lovely, a real sweetheart. I'm so glad to see her go home."

An hour's worth of paperwork, and paying the fees, and then he was carrying a box that said "I'm going home," on the side. Susan seemed sort of bemused by the whole thing, and willingly stopped at the local pet store so that he could run in and get food, litter, and a few small toys. Then she took him home, and he had to smile as he let the cat out of the carrier.

She didn't immediately hide, or gorge herself on food. Instead, she rubbed her face against his shin, almost like she was thanking him, before quietly making her way over to the couch where she laid down for a hard earned nap.

"Well, it looks like her majesty is settling in," Susan said, scratching her under the chin. A loud purring broke the air, and Susan smiled.

"Yep, she'll fit in around here just fine," Tom answered, leaning against the wall and watching the two of them. "Go ahead and ask, before you burst."

Susan tried to look innocent, but it failed miserably, and eventually she burst out laughing. "Okay, I guess I'm really that obvious. Have you heard from Steven?"

Tom shook his head. "No, and I don't expect to. He sent over some food the first day I was home, but nothing since. And it's really better this way. No relationship would survive the weight of the issues that ours was going to be struggling under."

She sighed. "You know I think you're wrong, right? You guys seemed pretty happy together, and he should get credit for saving your ass. The least you could do is give it a try before you decide that it's not going to work."

Sitting down on the other side of the cat, he smiled as she moved closer, wrapping her tail around his wrist possessively. Petting her sleek fur, he said, "Can we let it drop, Susan? I've made my decision, whether or not you agree with me."

She immediately nodded. "I should get into the office for a few hours. Are you going back to work on Monday?"

"Yes, and I should have my car back by then, thank god. So, next week will be back to normal."

She laughed and kissed his cheek, then left.

Tom sat on the couch for a long time, petting the cat.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. The clients from hell finally decided on which version of the plans they liked, and he could sign off on the project, handing it off to the next step. Barbara was overly solicitous, but he'd expected that. His boss hadn't been pleased by the fact that he'd been out a week with no warning, and he ended up working late every night. The autopsy results came back on George, and they showed he'd died of a heart attack.

The only bright spot in his day was Marga. She was well behaved, and extremely affectionate. He smiled when he thought about her, and she never failed to give him the affection that he craved so deeply.

There were no more overtures from Steven, and Tom firmly assured himself that it was for the best. Susan even stopped asking about him in their phone calls, and he decided that that was very much of the good. When the cast finally came off, he didn't even think twice about Susan's suggestion that they go out for a drink. Her suggestion of a dance club in the city was a little odd, but change would be good. He didn't think he was up to going to their regular bar any time soon and she seemed to sense that.

When they got there, he rethought it. It was dark and smoky, and the music was pounding. The crowd was mostly male and mostly young, clustered on the dance floor in a heaving mass. But Susan found a table, and plunked down her purse. "Looks good to me."

He stared around, hoping that he'd be able to find something to get him out of this, but she waved him off to the bar, and obediently, he went.

After a few drinks, it didn't seem too bad. Susan kind of stuck out as one of the few women in the bar, but she didn't seem too uncomfortable with it, so he didn't worry about it, instead watching the young men out of the corner of his eye. He had to admit that his bed was mighty empty at night.

"I think it's my turn to buy," Susan said, standing up. Tom barely heard her, distracted by a swirl of movement at the edge of the floor. And then one of the bodies resolved into a discrete figure. It was Steven, hot and sweaty, and clothed in skin tight jeans and a t-shirt. Tom's mouth went dry.

A glance at Susan showed her watching him, and Tom understood instantly that he'd been set up. He couldn't bring himself to object, because Steven was prowling across the floor. As he stopped next to the table, Tom took a deep breath, smelling the scent of clean, masculine sweat.

Before he could say anything, though, Steven stuck out one hand. "Hi. I'm Steven. Interested in a dance?"

Tom stared blankly at the hand before he put it all together and realized that Steven was pretending not to have met before. He knew he should say no, but when he opened his mouth, "Yes" fell out instead.

"Great!" Tom really wasn't sure how it happened, but he ended up on the dance floor with Steven. He tried to put some distance between the two of them, but he didn't succeed. Instead, Steven ended up pressed tight against him, so close that he could feel the heat of Steven's erection through his pants.

He couldn't stand it anymore. Grabbing Steven by the shoulders, he pulled him in for a kiss. It was just a brush of lips on lips, but when he pulled back, Steven smiled slightly and returned the favor. This time the kiss was deep, and it was dirty, and it was everything that Tom had wanted for so long.

Steven mouthed his way down Tom's jaw and then up to his ear, where he said, "Let's get out of here."

Tom bit his lip. He shouldn't do this. He really shouldn't. But Steven looked so hopeful, and he couldn't stand the thought of knocking that look off his face. Instead, he glanced around, looking for Susan. She was standing by the bar, and as he watched, she waved goodbye and started making her way to the door, leaving him here with Steven.

Steven's lips were still on his ear, and as he watched Susan leave, he said, "Please, Tom, I've got a room upstairs."

Swallowing hard, suddenly terrified, he nodded. Steven whispered something that might have been thank god, and then Tom was following him out of the bar, and into the hotel. The sudden silence after the noise of the bar through him off balance, and he wobbled on his feet. God knew how much he'd had to drink. It had to be a lot to make him think this was a good idea.

He followed Steven to the elevator, keeping a few feet of distance between them. The tension was thick between them, and Tom could feel his hands start to shake. When Steven finally came to a halt in front of one of the doors, he turned and gave him a reassuring smile just before unlocking the door.

Tom paused before entering the room, but eventually he did. Steven let the door close quietly, and then, without saying a word, sunk to his knees in front of Tom. For a long moment, there was silence in the room, and then Tom reacted, trying to pull Steven up off the floor. "Please don't do this."

Steven resisted, wrapping his arms around Tom's waist. "I don't want more than you can give, but please don't drive me away. I want to be with you, in whatever way you can handle."

Tom gave up, dropping to his own knees facing Steven. "I want to be with you so badly, but I don't know if I _can_. You know what happened the last time I was with you - I nearly got you killed."

"You need to stop blaming yourself." Steven's hands came up, cradling Tom's face. "George was insane. There was nothing you could have done differently. And I don't blame you. You didn't nearly get me killed. You saved me. Now, let me do the same for you." Still holding his face gently, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over Tom's lips. Tom hesitated, and then couldn't resist anymore, melting into the embrace.

The next kiss was hotter, but no less gentle for all of that. It was completely obvious to Tom that Steven was trying not to spook him, and he appreciated the effort. Steven's hands gradually left his face, drifting down to rest on his shoulders. "Anything you want, Tom. Anything, or nothing at all. If I can hold you, it will be enough."

Hands shaking, Tom reached out to touch Steven's chest. It was hot, and the t shirt was smooth to the touch. "Maybe we could move this to the bed?"

Steven nodded and rolled to his feet, holding out one hand for Tom to take. He did, letting Steven pull him up, and then paused to kick off his shoes before lying down on the bed. When Steven joined him, he realized that he was shaking hard enough to cause the bed to vibrate.

"Shhh," Steven whispered. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want. Just let me hold you." He held open his arms, but made no move to get closer, leaving the decision up to Tom.

Slowly, he moved into those encircling arms, allowing them to close around him. He held himself stiffly, afraid to relax. Gradually, Steven's warmth and the way he continued to whisper promises let him melt into the embrace. As he let go, the tenor of Steven's words changed. "There we go, that's it. See? Nothing to be afraid of here, nothing at all."

Tom chuckled wetly. "For now, anyway. But god knows how long it'll be before I can do anything besides this?"

Steven's voice was firm. "Doesn't matter. I... care for you, Tom, and I'm willing to wait." There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, and they were quiet for a long time, just breathing together.

Closing his eyes, Tom forced his muscles to relax. He could do this. He wasn't going to let the ghost of George destroy his life anymore. Keeping them shut, he sat up slightly. Steven's arms clutched at him for a moment before letting him go. "Tom?"

"Can we - I want to try taking my shirt off, okay?"

Steven's eyes lit up, but all he said was, "Okay." Sitting up as well, he pulled his t shirt off, then laid back down, opening his arms wide for Tom to get as close as he wanted.

The first touch of skin on skin made Tom hiss. It had been so long since he'd been touched, and Steven's hands on his back felt good. Gingerly, he brought up one hand and touched Steven's chest. His skin twitched, and when Tom looked, Steven was biting his lip. As Tom petted the smooth skin, Steven said, "That feels good. Don't stop?"

Tom could feel Steven's erection, hot and hard, against his hip, and he shifted, pressing into it. That made Steven groan, and Tom halfway expected him to clutch at him, but Steven made no effort to rock into the touch. Startled by the lack, he pulled back to study Steven's face. "No pressure, Tom. But you have to know what you do to me. I'm not going to lie to you, either."

His own cock had been resolutely soft ever since George's attack, and even now he could feel the distinct lack of response. But that didn't mean that he couldn't make Steven feel good. Steeling himself, he reached down to the fly of Steven's jeans, undoing them. Steven stopped him with a hand. "You don't have to."

Swallowing hard, Tom nodded. "I know. I want to." Steven hesitated, and then moved his hand away, telling Tom without words that he'd go along with whatever Tom was comfortable with.

Tom focused on taking deep breaths as he carefully worked his hand underneath Steven's pants and underwear, wrapping his hand around his cock. Steven shuddered and moaned. "Christ, that feels good."

"I haven't really done anything yet."

"You're touching me. That's all I need." Steven sure didn't look like he was lying. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard. When Tom shifted his grip, his hips jerked, then stilled.

"No, I - I want you to." In demonstration, Tom squeezed tighter, then released. Steven studied his face for a second, then let his eyes fall shut. Slowly, he started to thrust into the tunnel of Tom's fingers, moaning, his hands tangled in the blanket.

It didn't take long, just a few minutes, and he came with a loud shuddering gasp. For a long moment, he laid there panting, then he sat up a little and leaned over, pulling Tom in for a soft kiss, his hand on Tom's wrist. Then he pulled Tom's hand out of his pants and brought it up to his mouth, where he started licking it clean.

For the first time in six weeks, Tom could feel his cock start to harden, and he whimpered a little, his own hips rocking. Steven stopped, making Tom wish that he hadn't made any sound at all. "Tom?"

"I'm fine. Don't stop, please." Steven looked at him, then slowly sucked one of his fingers into his mouth. As the wet heat surrounded him, Tom whined, high in his throat. "Oh, god, touch me? Just..."

Steven seemed to know exactly what he meant, sliding his hand down his chest and hesitating over the button of his fly. "Are you sure?"

Tom bit back a gasp. "No, I'm really not, but I want to at least try."

"If you need me to stop..." Steven didn't finish the sentence, but he did turn his attention to unbuttoning and unzipping Tom's fly. His erection faded a little at the interruption, but when Steven reached his dick, he couldn't help the thrust into his hand. His touch was too light and tentative, and Tom had never felt anything better. It felt good enough that when it stopped, he cried out. "Shhh, Tom. Not stopping. But can I slide your pants down a little?"

Desperate to have that touch back on a cock that finally seemed interested, Tom didn't even have to think about it. He nodded and rolled on his back, lifting his hips so that Steven could tug down his pants around his thighs.

His cock, hard and red, sprung up when it was released, and Steven smiled at it. "I want to suck you. Is that okay?"

"I don't know. You could try?" Tom hated the way that his voice sounded so tentative.

Steven slid down the bed, caressing his thighs and stomach, reaching out to plant a kiss on the very tip of Tom's dick. Tom sucked in a breath, but it felt good, felt right, and when Steven looked up at him, he nodded slowly.

Steven rolled between his legs, holding himself up on his hands so that he wasn't actually touching Tom. It was something of a relief, because Tom didn't think he could take feeling pinned. Then he stopped thinking, because his dick was in Steven's mouth, and even the tentative sucking that Steven was doing felt so fucking good.

After six weeks of not even being able to masturbate, the sensation was intense. Tom cried out, hips moving restlessly. Steven pulled off just enough to say, "Don't hold back," and then dropped back down, taking him deep and swallowing.

There was no artifice in what Steven was doing, just an honest want to please that communicated itself well. Tom groaned, feeling his orgasm making its way through his body. All of his nerves were on fire, and with a harsh gasping cry, he came, emptying himself down Steven's throat.

He didn't realize how badly he was shaking until Steven gathered him up in his arms. He bit back a sob at the feeling of comfort. "Shhh, let it out, Tom. I'm here."

Tom didn't want to cry. It was so stupid. It wasn't like he'd been that badly injured, after all. He'd managed to get through the last six weeks without once crying, but with Steven's comfort came an inability to control himself.

Breath hitching painfully in his chest, eyes wet, he forced himself back under control. It seemed like hours had passed, but when he glanced at the clock, he saw it had only been a few minutes. "Feeling better?" Steven asked.

Tom took some time to think about it. "I guess. Tired, though."

"You should sleep."

Nestling in closer, Tom thought about it, closing his eyes. A sudden thought had his eyes shooting right back open. "I can't. I have to go home and feed Marga."

"Marga? Who's that?"

"My, uh, cat." Tom answered, embarrassed for some reason. "I adopted her a few weeks ago."

But Steven's smile had softened. "I like cats." He squeezed Tom briefly, then sat up before he could panic at being restrained. "Let's go feed your cat."

"You don't have to come. You've obviously paid for the room. It would be silly for you to check out now."

"I rented the room to give me somewhere to talk to you. It's done its job." Steven hesitated. "Unless you don't want me to come?"

"No, it's fine." And when Tom thought about it, it was.

Chapter Eighteen

Marga was waiting by the door when Tom opened it. She sniffed at Steven once, then stood up on her hind paws and demanded that Tom pick her up. He did so and sat her on his shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen, where he fed her.

Setting her back down to eat, he stopped and stared at Steven, unsure what to do next. Six weeks earlier, they would have already been on their way to bed, but so much had happened since then. And after his breakdown earlier in the evening, he was still a little fragile.

Steven seemed to sense how he was feeling, because he was keeping a respectable distance between the two of them, a distance Tom didn't know how to cross, or even if he wanted to.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

The stiff formality made him wince, but he dutifully made the coffee and waited, leaning on the counter as it brewed. Pouring it into two mugs, he handed one to Steven. When their fingers brushed, he gasped. Steven fumbled with the mug before setting it down on the counter and catching Tom's hand in both of his. He didn't say anything, just held him tightly, until Tom cracked and pulled him in for a hug.

They stood like that for a long time, Tom wrapped around Steven and holding on for dear life. Tom eventually tuned in and realized that Steven was whispering into his hair. He couldn't quite hear the words, but he could feel the emotion behind them, and he knew that if he focused he'd hear promises not to leave him, not to hurt him. Promises that there was no way that Steven could keep, but Tom wanted to believe him, wanted it with all his heart and soul.

When Tom started to feel the familiar itching down the back of his spine, he released Steven and drew back, picking up his own cup of coffee, and avoiding Steven's eyes. As he sipped, he glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. Steven looked _wrecked_, with bags under his eyes and paler than usual. Tom could have kicked himself for not noticing sooner. "Are you all right?"

Steven smiled, lighting up his whole face. "I'm fine. Nothing a little sleep wouldn't cure."

"Mmm," Tom responded. Sleep sounded good. He was exhausted, bone deep and overwhelming. He hadn't been sleeping well either. Holding out one hand, he waited until Steven took it. "We could lie down, maybe sleep?"

Steven didn't even hesitate. He set down his coffee and started tugging on Tom's hand, pulling him in the direction of the stairs. Tom couldn't help the laugh. "Eager?" As if in echo, he could remember the last time he'd asked Steven that question. That time had led to some of the most mind blowing sex of his life.

Telling his libido to shut up firmly, he followed Steven, trying to focus on what he was saying. "Very. I haven't slept well since - well, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Arriving in the bedroom, Steven released his hand, clearly waiting for Tom to take the lead. Suddenly shy, Tom turned his back as he shed shirt and pants, leaving his briefs in place.

Still not looking, he slid under the blanket and sheets, only then to look at Steven. Like him, Steven had stripped down to his shorts and as Tom watched, he joined him in the bed.

At the first touch of skin on skin, they moved together with an almost audible click. Tom sighed and moved so that he could nuzzle at Steven's shoulder. Steven gave a matching sigh and shifted so that they could lace their fingers together. "Tom? I want - can I kiss you?"

Tom refused to think about it. He just nodded, tilting his head. To his surprise, the kiss was gentle and chaste, and then Steven closed his eyes. Still holding hands, they drifted off to sleep.

Tom woke, shivering. The room was so cold, and at some point in the night the two of them had rolled apart. With a barely suppressed sob, he moved close enough to feel Steven's heat.

He was startled by Steven's shout. "Tom! No!"

He moved closer. "What is it, Steven? I'm right here -"

"Leave him alone! Don't hurt him! Please, no!"

Scared now, Tom grabbed Steven by the shoulder, only to be pushed away. Refusing to let that stop him, he grabbed him again, shaking him firmly. "Steven! It's a dream. Wake up!" Reaching past him, he flipped on the light, then shook Steven again.

With a gasp, Steven woke. His eyes were wild, darting around the bedroom. When they finally locked on Tom, he let out a breath. "You're really here."

"I'm really here. What was that?"

"Nightmare. I've been having them every night."

"About what?" But Tom was terribly afraid of the answer.

"Jesus, Tom, what do you think," Steven exploded. "Do you think it was easy, knowing what that, that, _man_ did to you? I saw part of it, remember? Especially when you wouldn't even talk to me. It was like you were blaming me for not getting there in time, and it was awful. I lo-like you, a lot, and it's been killing me that you wouldn't let me help you!" Steven stopped, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.

It seemed like a fair trade to Tom, who felt like he'd been punched in the chest. He did the only thing he could. He grabbed Steven and pulled him in close, kissing him hard.

For a long moment, Steven didn't respond at all, and Tom was having second thoughts about the wisdom of kissing him like this. Then he made a soft sound and buried his hands in Tom's hair, returning the kiss with a fierceness that left him breathless.

He started to break the kiss, only to have Steven whimper and turn them, so that Tom was on top of Steven, pressing him hard into the bed. He could feel the hard length of Steven's erection against his hip, and he groaned, trying to put some distance between them.

"No, please, Tom, please don't stop," Steven begged and Tom dropped back down, letting their bodies twist together. He was shaking, terrified that he was going to hurt Steven, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away when he sounded like that. "Oh, god. I want you to fuck me. Don't freak out, please, but I want it so badly. It's all I can think about."

He bit his tongue, and the small pain served to steady him. He knew he wasn't going to hurt Steven, not the way that George had hurt him. He wasn't going to take him dry, with no preparation, wasn't going to make him cry and scream in pain. His breathing was coming harder, and not in the good way as he panicked.

Some of his distress must have communicated itself to Steven, because he was suddenly quiet, reaching up with trembling hands to touch Tom's face. His voice was softer, calmer. "It's okay, Tom. I trust you. We don't have to, no matter what I said."

He buried his face in Steven's neck, trying to calm himself. The smell of a healthy male, one who he knew tasted good, helped settle him, and nodded to himself. He could do this.

This time, when he pulled back, Steven let him go, and his heart twisted a little. When he started to work off his briefs, Steven stared at him. "Are you sure?"

"No, but the only way out is through, right?" He sat on the edge of the bed, afraid that no matter what he did, it wouldn't matter, because his cock was back to not being interested in the proceedings. Steven slid up to sit next to him, one hand on his back.

"It's okay as long as we're together. Nothing else matters, Tom. Nothing."

Tom didn't say anything, but he turned and pushed at Steven, pushing him down flat on the bed. Steven made a soft sound and went willingly, spreading his legs. Tom turned his attention to his shorts, pulling them down carefully, then looked over Steven. He was beautiful, body hard and smooth, cock hard and red.

"Don't move, okay?" Steven nodded, turning it into a groan when Tom reached out a shaking hand to touch his dick. "I don't know if I can fuck you, but I can try. Is that okay?"

Fisting his hands in the blankets, Steven said, "More than okay. _Anything_ is okay as long as you don't stop touching me."

The caress was feather-light, barely there, just one finger up the large vein that pulsed up Steven's cock, but it was enough to make him silent again. "Shift back on the bed."

Steven did as he was told, taking a deep breath and another handful of sheet as he settled himself. Tom reached past him to the nightstand as Steven watched with greedy eyes, pulling out the lube and a condom. Setting the condom down on the bed, he opened the slick and coated his fingers liberally.

His legs were spread wide, and when he traced wet fingers down the crease between thigh and torso, he spread them even wider, canting his hips for better access. When he circled Steven's entrance with a finger, he started to moan softly, words liberally mixed in, and when he slid one finger inside, Steven whimpered, then fell silent.

He felt hot, and tight, and Tom looked anxiously at Steven's face for any sign that he was being hurt. All he saw there was pleasure, and that gave him the reassurance he needed to start fucking him slowly, with just that one finger.

The soft clenching heat inside Steven started to relax, and he added another finger, never stopping their restless motion. He sought out Steven's prostate, pressing on it rhythmically, loving the way that he clenched tighter when he did. The moaning was back, louder, and it was music to Tom's ears.

By the time he was up to three fingers, Steven was gripping the blankets so hard his knuckles had gone white. He wasn't moving, and Tom could see the effort that it was costing him. His cock was dripping wet, tight against his belly, and Tom's mouth watered at the idea of sucking it into his mouth, but his own cock was resolutely soft.

All he wanted to do was give Steven some pleasure, and his own god damn body refused to cooperate. His fingers slowed, then stopped, and Steven lifted his head to see what was wrong. "Tom?"

"I - I can't. I'm sorry. I _want_ to, I really do, but," he gestured at his cock, still and limp.

Steven bit his lip, hips moving restlessly. Then he reached down and firmly removed Tom's fingers from where they were. "Come up here."

Tom started to slide up to lie next to Steven, feeling seven kinds of crap, only to be confused when Steven said, "Not like that. Come kneel up here, straddling my shoulders."

Suddenly, Tom realized what Steven was going to do, and he was shocked into stillness. Fuck, that sounded so good, so hot. Shakily, he obeyed, realizing that it put his cock at the perfect position for Steven to suck into his mouth.

He leaned forward, putting his hands on the headboard, and let his head hang down. Steven nuzzled his cock, making happy noises, then Tom watched as he licked at the head. It made him gasp, and his cock started to lengthen. Steven chuckled and opened his mouth, taking the head in, and sucked it softly, making it harden further. Tom shifted, letting Steven take more, and groaning as he did.

For long moments, Steven's head bobbed on his cock, till it was slick with spit and fully hard. Then he pulled back and tugged at Tom's hips. "Fuck my mouth," he said. "You know you want to."

Hesitantly, Tom rocked his hips slightly. Steven moaned encouragingly, and Tom felt it all the way up his spine. Suddenly, he couldn't hold back, hips jerking as he fucked Steven's face, every stroke long and deep. Steven didn't choke, didn't try to stop him, and just like that, Tom knew he could do it.

When he pulled free of Steven's mouth, he made a noise objecting, arms coming up around Tom's hips and holding him in place. "Do you want this, or do you want me to fuck you?"

Steven's eyes shot open. "Oh, Jesus, yes. Please?"

"For that to work, you're going to have to let go." Steven squeezed him tightly one more time, then released him, and Tom slid down his body, picking up the condom as he went. Kneeling between his legs, his hands were shaking too badly to get the condom open, and Steven sat up a little, taking it from him and ripping it open, smoothing it into place.

The feel of cool rubber pulled him back from the edge, just a little. Picking up the tube of lube, he slicked his cock, and then, hands still shaking, he got into position. Steven lifted his legs, draping one over his shoulder and wrapping the other around his waist, and with a deep breath, he lined up his cock and pressed it home.

There was a little bit of resistance at the ring of muscle, but then he was sliding into place, smooth and slow. Tom kept his eyes locked on Steven's face, watching for the least hint of pain, but all he saw was pleasure, and that helped his breathing to steady.

Pulling back a little, he surged forward again, and Steven breathed out one word, "More." That was all Tom needed to hear, before he started fucking Steven in earnest. Every stroke was deep and even, pushing both of them higher. He could feel the spot of wetness on his belly from Steven's cock, and that only served to inflame him more. Grabbing at Steven's thighs, he pushed them up and back, spreading him wider open, and Steven's eyes jerked back open, gasping out "Yes."

"Touch yourself," he pleaded, wanting to see it, wanting to feel Steven come around his cock. There was no hesitation, just Steven's hand instantly dropping to his own cock, which he immediately started stroking in time to Tom's strokes. His other hand fell lower, playing with his balls, and then further still, touching where they were joined so intimately.

Tom gasped at the soft touch of Steven's fingers, slamming into him harder. "Please come, Steven. Oh, god, so close, need you to come first."

Steven's fingers disappeared, and he focused on jerking his cock, whimpering. "Gonna... gonna... now!" and with that, he spilled over his own belly and chest. His channel clenched tight, making Tom moan and fuck into him once, twice, three more times, before his own orgasm rushed him, carrying him over the edge.

He collapsed on to Steven, and then rolled to one side, feeling himself slip out of him and mourning the loss. Steven groaned and turned to face him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you so much. That was exactly what I wanted."

For a long time, he didn't say anything, too busy trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. Steven didn't seem to expect a response, though, just holding him tight. Finally, he realized that he was shaking, that his face was wet, and that Steven was whispering to him. "It's okay, Tom. I've got you. Just let it go, let it all go."

With a sob, he did as he was told, finally letting go of all of the anger and pain he'd been carrying around for the last six weeks. It wasn't a lot, or dramatic, but it was enough. For the first time, it was enough.

Chester Interlude Seven

Chester checked in on the boys after the sounds had died down. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but was satisfied to find them both asleep, tangled up in a heap. He watched them from the doorway, and was unsurprised to see Steven's eyes eventually flutter open. He saw the moment that he noticed him standing there, because his eyes got wide, and then he started to slip out of the bed.

He had to pause and whisper reassuring words to Tom, who looked deeply unhappy but never really woke up, instead transferring his tight grip to the pillow that Steven slipped into his place. Chester tried to read the expression on his face as he padded over.

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to make sure my boy was okay. He seems... better," Chester confessed.

"He is better. And he'd be even better if you didn't just show up like this."

"Oh, please. It's not like he can see me. As you explained to me, I'm apparently a ghost. That means I'm invisible to everyone - except you."

"He senses you. He knows that someone's watching him, and after what happened, that's going to make him nervous. Please, just leave us alone for a while, okay?" Steven whispered fiercely, arguing persuasively.

Chester knew that at least part of it was that Steven was supremely uncomfortable with his presence, not that he could really blame him. After Steven had presented him with a copy of his death certificate, _he'd_ been uncomfortable with his own presence.

So he simply said, "I'll be around. And if you hurt him, I won't be far." After killing George, he knew that that threat carried weight, but Steven simply nodded.

"I wouldn't expect any less."

Chapter nineteen

It had been a long three months. Tom still had moments where he didn't seem to know what he was doing, where he tried to drive Steven away. Steven, for his part, had held on tightly, never pressuring Tom to do more than he was comfortable. That meant that their sex lives mostly consisted of frottage and blow jobs, with the occasional fucking where Steven always, always bottomed. He didn't mind, really, though he knew that Steven wished sometimes that Tom would be less careful.

They weren't living together, though they might as well be. Every weekend and most nights they were together, and most of his clothes were at Tom's. But Tom didn't suggest him moving in, and he knew that Tom was uncomfortable at his place, not that he really blamed him, after George's attack.

Steven's nightmares had dwindled to almost nothing, leaving him limp with relief, and even Tom's were infrequent at best. All in all, things were good.

Like right now, for instance. They were sitting on the couch, so close they were breathing each other's air. Supposedly they were watching the game, but neither of them could have told who was playing, much less what the score was. Tom's hand was drawing designs on Steven's thigh, and Steven's hands were busy running through Tom's hair, which had gotten longer in the time they'd been together.

Tom turned slightly, seeking out his mouth, and he submitted happily. Tom knew that he loved it when he took the initiative. Steven encouraged him by being pliant and willing for anything that Tom wanted, and they'd come up with some incredible alternatives to the hard fucking that Steven craved so much.

But...

Steven reached down and picked up Tom's hand, placing it over his nipple. Tom knew that he was giving him a hint, asking for that touch of pain that Tom had so far been unwilling to provide. His fingers were gentle through Steven's shirt, brushing over the nipple until it peaked tightly. Without moving his mouth, Steven breathed "More."

This time, Tom went along with it, squeezing his nipple tightly, then twisting it slightly. Steven gasped, deepening the kiss. Shifting slowly, giving Tom a chance to object, he shifted till he was kneeling, straddling Tom's legs.

Tom's hands dropped to the hem of his t shirt, pushing it up till Steven's chest was bared. He touched everywhere he could reach, stroking softly. Steven groaned, letting his head drop back, and Tom chuckled. "Feels good?"

"Very."

Tom laughed again, feeling freer than he had in a long time. Maybe this would work, after all. He drew patterns on Steven's chest, circling his nipples but not quite touching them. When Steven relaxed into the touch, Tom steeled himself and took his nipples tightly, twisting them hard.

Steven grunted, his face completely open and lost. "Oh, god. Are you..." His voice drifted off, lost in the sensation of what Tom was doing to him.

Breathing deeply, Tom leaned forward and took one of his nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. Gradually, he bit down, until Steven was squirming beneath him. The high pitched breathy moans that he was making were enough to get Tom fully hard, and he pressed his cloth covered cock up against Steven.

Steven was pleading, and the sound turned Tom on even more. Releasing the tortured bit of flesh, he pulled off his t-shirt, and then turned his attention to getting Steven's off. Steven's eyes were glazed, and he cooperated, but his muscles didn't seem to be quite coordinated.

Shirt off, he slapped Steven on the ass. "Stand up." He obeyed with alacrity, standing and lacing his fingers behind his back. "Is this what you want?"

Steven's voice was soft when he said, "God, yes. Anything, you know that."

Tom's chest constricted painfully at his words, but he swallowed the feeling down and reached out, undoing Steven's pants and tugging them down. At his look, Steven stepped out of them, leaving him completely naked and hard.

He left him standing there for a moment as he contemplated what he was going to do next. He remembered how much Steven had liked a little bit of pain with their games, and muscles that hadn't been used in months stretched and woke up.

Picking up the lube off the end table, he coated his fingers liberally. He wanted to make this good for Steven, as a thank you for how patient he'd been as he recovered from George's assault. He noticed the way that Steven was staring at his hands, and he took his time, getting his fingers thickly coated. "Lie down, across my lap."

It took a moment for Steven to do as he'd been told, because it was an awkward position, but eventually he ended up ass up across Tom's knees, the rest of him stretched out along the couch. A touch to his inner thigh had him spreading his legs as much as he could, and Tom slowly slid one finger into him.

Steven groaned and moved restlessly, only to be shocked into stillness when Tom slapped his ass with the other hand, leaving a perfect red handprint. Seeing that, he had to freeze, trying to catch his breath that tried to escape from his chest. "Okay?"

"Oh, more than," Steven responded, body perfectly relaxed.

With that, Tom relaxed as well, finger moving as deep as he could get, his other hand scattering smacks along his ass and thighs. Steven was moaning steadily, and Tom could feel a wet spot on his pants from where his dick was leaking.

When he added another finger, the moaning changed in pitch but didn't stop, and he had to smile. Steven's ass was so perfect, hot and tight and wet inside, and he wanted it to be his dick, but he wasn't ready for this to end. Instead, he landed two more slaps, harder than the previous ones, and slipped his fingers free. "On your knees, now."

Steven slipped off the couch, settling to his knees, spreading his legs wide. His hands were laced behind his back, and he was studying Tom's face as if there was going to be an exam. Tom knew what he was looking for, and focused on staying relaxed and calm. Eventually, tension in Steven's shoulders bled out, and he smiled tentatively.

Tom unbuckled his pants, tugging them down around his thighs. "Suck me, but don't make me come. I'm saving that for your hot ass."

Making a happy noise, Steven leaned forward and licked a long stripe up the side of Tom's cock, then took the head of his cock in, sucking softly. It was good, so astonishingly good, even though this was something they did a lot of. Tom had forgotten how good it was to be in charge like this, knowing that Steven would do anything he asked.

He cradled Steven's jaw gently, encouraging him to take him deeper. Each swallow felt separate, felt like he was being sucked right out of his skin. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, earning himself another moan. It vibrated right up his dick and into his spine.

Steven _was_ beautiful, content in his submission. He didn't angst over it, or worry about it. He just accepted whatever Tom wanted, and Tom had to admit that it was a large part of what he loved about the man.

Shifting, Steven managed to take even more of Tom's cock, his nose buried in the tight black curls at his groin. He held there for a long moment, swallowing, before slowly pulling back. Using his grip on the side of Steven's face, Tom eased him even further back and off. "Such a good boy, pretty. So obedient and good."

Preening at the praise, Steven grinned up at him, licking his lips. It was tempting to dive back into his mouth, find his completion there. It would certainly be less frightening. But while Tom was many things, a coward wasn't one of them, so instead he stood, shedding his pants. "Stand up, pretty."

Rising to his feet, Steven stood in front of him, waiting for his instructions. Instead of saying anything, Tom took him by the arm and led him around the back of the sofa, pushing him over the back with one hand on the back of his neck and holding him there. "Comfortable?"

Steven shifted, planted his hands on the cushions of the couch, then nodded. "Yes. Are you going to fuck me now?"

Tom nodded, forgetting that Steven couldn't see him. Moving to stand behind him, he spread Steven's cheeks, looking at the tiny puckered opening. Steven's breathing was getting fast, and when Tom leaned over him to pick up a condom, he said, "No."

"No?" Instantly Tom let go of Steven's cheeks and backing up. Steven stood up straight and reached out to him.

"I meant, yes, fuck me, but don't use a condom. We're both clean."

"But - "

"I don't care, Tom. It's been three months, and we're both clean. I want to feel you bare inside me."

All Tom could do was nod dumbly. "Okay."

Grinning brilliantly, Steven immediately bent back over, presenting him with the most perfect ass Tom had ever seen. Still pink from the earlier spanking, and when Steven spread his legs wider, he could see the tiny little hole that he wanted to fuck so badly. Picking up the lube, he slicked his cock thoroughly, and then placed the head at the entrance, pressing gently.

With a little pressure, he popped through the ring of muscle, and froze at Steven's gasp. He would have had to freeze anyway, since if he hadn't he would have come right then from the feeling of his bare cock in Steven's ass. He'd never gone bareback before, and the sensation was so much more intense than he expected.

Slowly, he eased his way inside, feeling it in ways that he'd never felt before. Spreading Steven's cheeks wide, he watched, spellbound, as his cock slid in. Once he bottomed out, his balls snug up against Steven, he leaned forward and touched his back, feeling it tense and release under his hands.

Steven was whimpering softly into the couch, and when he touched him, he cried out. Surprised by his reaction, he deepened the touch, listening to Steven pant. "Are you ready now, pretty? I'm going to start moving, gonna take you to heaven."

He nodded, and Tom pulled back a little. Stroking in deep, he relished the sounds that Steven made. He was a generous lover, never holding back his responses, and it made it that much more pleasurable. Each stroke built on the one before, slow and steady, and he could feel the orgasm building in the base of his spine. From the way that Steven was tensing rhythmically around his cock, he could tell that he was close as well. "Don't hold back. I want you to come, pretty, come for me."

Steven surprised him, planting his hands in the sofa cushions and pushing back hard and fast. "Oh, god, so close. Please, please, please, just a little more."

What could Tom do, but acquiesce? He slammed in, feeling the orgasm start to move through him like a Tsunami. He only managed twice more, before he was coming, feeling wave after wave of pleasure as his come poured into Steven's willing body.

Steven's body clenched and he cried out right as Tom thought he was finished, only to start coming again at the way that Steven clenched his channel around his cock as he came. This time left him winded, leaning with one hand on the back of the sofa, the other on his hip. When he recovered enough to be able to breathe, he pulled free slowly, pulling Steven upright and wrapping his arms around his chest.

Together, they sank down to sit on the floor, both of them breathing hard. Neither of them said anything for a long time, just holding one another.

Finally, Tom said, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The look that Steven gave him was full of tender amusement. "No, you didn't. And you called me 'pretty' again. For that I'd forgive you even if you had." Only then, did Tom realize how long it had been for Steven, about how patient he'd been with Tom.

But he didn't say any of that, instead rolling to his feet and holding out a hand for Steven to take. "Let's go to bed, pretty. It's Saturday night, and tomorrow I have a big day planned - the two of us staying in bed all day."

Steven's smile was blinding.

Sometime in the early morning, Tom woke to realize that the temperature had dropped in the room. Shifting closer to Steven, he curled around his warm body. He was drifting back off to sleep when he realized that what he'd taken to be shadows in the predawn light held the shape of a man, but for whatever reason he didn't panic. Instead, he whispered, "Who's there?"

"It's your great grandfather Chester, boy. I'm just here one last time to check up on you."

"Chester? But you died before I was born - how could you be here?"

The shape came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, which didn't dip at all. "I'm a ghost, Tom. But the call of your great grandmother is getting louder every day, and I'm going to go and join her soon. Before I go, I just wanted to know. Are you happy?"

A little more awake, he tried to make sense of the question. "Am I happy?"

Chester snorted. "It's not a difficult question, Tom. Are you happy? Does being with Steven make you happy?"

Tom curled tighter around Steven, feeling his soft breathing and his warmth. With a shock, he realized that he really was happy - had been for a while. "Yes, he does. Every day."

Smiling at him, Chester lifted one hand and laid it on the side of Tom's face. "That's all I ever wanted for you, son. Now, you take care of your young man, okay? I'll be watching."

Sitting up, Tom said, "Wait. There's so much I could ask you - do you have to go now?"

"I do. Your great grandma wasn't a patient woman, and I'm risking having my ears boxed even now. You'll be fine. Just take care of one another."

Steven spoke out of the darkness, startling Tom. "We will, Chester. Thank you."

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Chester started to fade out, leaving just Tom and Steven alone in the room. For the first time in a long time, the sensation of being watched faded from Tom's awareness. "He killed George, didn't he?"

"He did. He was protecting you."

Tom turned and laid back down, pulling Steven over so that he was pillowed on Tom's chest. "What I don't understand is why you aren't more freaked out."

"Mostly because I've been having conversations with him since that whole mess. He kept showing up and pushing me to you. All he really wanted was for you to be happy."

Tom looked up at Steven. "I am, you know."

Steven moved impossibly closer. "I know."

"You know what would make me happier?"

"Mmm, no. What?"

"If you'd fuck me."

It was worth it for the look of shock on Steven's face. It was the one thing that they hadn't done, and Tom knew how badly Steven must want it at this point. But he'd never even hinted at it, and that seemed to do more to make things all right than anything else.

"Are you - " Steven's voice came out unnaturally high and strained, and he cleared his throat before he continued, "you sure?"

The one promise that Tom had made was that he'd always be honest with Steven, and so he shifted uncomfortably and ducked his head while saying, "No, not really. But I want to at least try."

Steven studied his face, and whatever he saw there convinced him of Tom's sincerity. "Okay, but if it bothers you, you tell me, okay?"

Tom nodded, then sucked in a breath as Steven kissed his chest. They were already naked, and it didn't take much for Steven to move over him, slowly kissing his way down his body.

As always, Steven was careful not to pin him to the bed, and the caution that he showed reflected in every cautious movement. Tom wanted to tell him not to worry, to relax, but the only thing making this possible was Steven's caution. When he reached Tom's cock, he gave it a soft kiss, then said, "Turn over?"

He had to take another deep breath, but he did it, only then realizing that he was in the same position that he'd been in when George had... when he'd... No, he wasn't going to think about this now. He was going to focus on Steven, on the fact that he would never hurt Tom.

When he felt Steven's hands on his ass, still so gentle, he sighed and tried to force his body to relax. Slowly, he felt his cheeks being spread, and a tongue lick a soft path up his crack. Knowing what was coming now, he relaxed more, and when that wet muscle started to press into his hole, he couldn't hold back the moan.

He could hear Steven's chuckle, and he couldn't help laughing in response. This felt _good_ in ways that he'd thought he'd never feel again.

Steven took his time, working him open with tongue and mouth, with just a touch of teeth that made him jump. Each touch felt better than the one before, and he was soon so relaxed that he barely reacted when Steven stopped to reach for the lube.

A finger caused him to tense up again, but only briefly, as Steven whispered soft words of encouragement into his hair. "You feel so good inside, Tom. So hot, and I'm going to make it feel better. All you have to do is trust me."

"I do," he murmured in response, and was rewarded with a deliberate stroke to his prostate. Nearly sobbing in pleasure, he was so lost that when one finger became two he barely noticed. That they went deeper, he noticed, and he rocked to his knees. pressing back into the soft touch.

"That's it, Tom. Just relax and let me do this," Steven said, and in response Tom dropped his shoulders to the bed, unable to hold himself up.

Three fingers was more of a stretch, and he whimpered, trying to breathe through it. Steven didn't move his fingers, just let them rest inside his entrance. Eventually, he loosened up, and when Steven asked if he was all right, he nodded. They started to move, slow and easy, Steven's other hand stroking over his back and neck.

When the fingers slipped free from his body, he groaned, feeling so alone and empty. "Shhh, we're not done yet," Steven said, and urged him back over on to his back. It felt like it took more coordination than he possessed, and he could have cried as Steven gathered him up in his arms for a full body hug. "Are you ready? We don't have to do any more if you don't want to."

"No, no, I want to." Steven looked unbelieving, and deliberately glanced down to where Tom's cock had deflated. "I do, just ignore that. I want to feel you inside me."

"If you're sure..."

"I am, and if you don't stop pussyfooting around, I'm going to spank you and make sure you don't enjoy it."

"Not exactly the kind of thing likely to make me cooperate," Steven said, but he shifted, lifting Tom's legs so that they were over his shoulders. "Tell me if you change your mind."

"Just do it, already." There was a firm, blunt pressure against his hole, and he gasped for air, seeing stars as it slid inside him. It hurt a little, burned, but he'd been prepared for that, and when Steven stopped moving, he reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. "I'm all right. Please."

Steven's eyes were a little wild, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing, but he finally started to move. Tom's cock was getting hard, and he could feel every pass of Steven's cock over his prostate, bring him closer to the brink. With a whimper, he dropped his hand to his cock, stroking it firmly in time to Steven's thrusts, then a little faster. "Please, so close," he whimpered.

The strain of staying slow and gentle was showing on Steven's face, but he didn't speed up, instead bending down to kiss Tom. "You come. I'm just going to move into your sweet ass and stay there."

Breathless, it was hard to laugh, but somehow he managed it. "It might get a little uncomfortable after a while," he said.

"Don't care." But Steven was starting to move faster, a little less careful as Tom got closer to his own orgasm. They both fell silent, each locked in their own body's responses to what was happening.

But the closer they got, the freer Tom felt, and as he finally peaked, he couldn't hold back the words. "God, I love you."

Steven looked shocked, only to freeze as his own orgasm rolled over him. He collapsed straight down, and whispered into Tom's ear. "I love you too."


End file.
